


Unholy Savior

by Billywick, selwyn



Series: Transformers various Roleplay Fiction [1]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gore, M/M, Minor Character Death, lots of emotional MESS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 00:16:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 56,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10819737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Billywick/pseuds/Billywick, https://archiveofourown.org/users/selwyn/pseuds/selwyn
Summary: In which Megatron had no choice when it came to the Fallen, and that changed everything.[Set post-RotF, ignores DotM]





	1. Prelude

The Fallen was a mockery of what he once was –  malformed, maligned, hideous in his insanity. More than anything, it was  _ anger _ that pushed Optimus past his limits and they fought with vicious, brutal bloodlust. Megatron was already half ruined, his helm stoved in with his own fusion cannon, leaking energon and weak. There was no chance to finish him off before the Fallen took up his attention, but there was no way he could join the fight with how thoroughly his frame had been wrecked. Optimus noticed he fought  differently –  slower, weaker,  _ lesser _ – but most of his attention was taken up by the abomination that threatened to unmake  _ everything _ .

Up close and personal, the Fallen was not nearly as formidable a foe as Megatron was at his peak. He tried to run, but Optimus dragged him to the earth, smashing him through ancient pillars and stone alike, and he ravaged as much of that spindly frame as he could reach. Plating and protoform were both crushed in his fists and the Fallen, battered and broken, stared up at him with narrowed, hateful optics.

“The war should’ve… started with  _ you _ . Not the other one… he was  _ weak _ .”

 

The Fallen’s gaze flicked over to where Megatron had gone through the wall, and Optimus growled behind his battle mask as he punched through his ventral plates. “I would  _ never _ serve a monster like you.”

Neither would Megatron –  at the least, not the brother he’d known. Nowadays, he does not know the mech as well as he had  _ thought _ .

“You think he had a  _ choice _ ?”

 

The final words were delivered tauntingly. The Fallen knew he’d lost and he took his last chance to spit on Optimus before his defeat –  and death –  were made concrete.

Optimus’ reply was simple.

“Give me your  _ face _ ,” his fist tore through the narrow chest and crushed the flared mantle around his helm. “I rise…” energon spurted out and the Fallen screeched a machine noise of agony as Optimus crushed more of his vitals, “...you  _ fall _ .”

The Fallen collapsed, lifeless in the twilight hours of his delusion. Optimus only glanced at his corpse before he turned, ready to face his  _ real  _ enemy. His only warning, however, was the roar of jet engines. Megatron, too keen to stick around when defeat looked imminent, had already left.

The battle was… over.

Optimus stood in the wreckage of the structures around the pyramid, still burdened with the remains of Jetfire’s sacrifices, feeling the battle-fury drain out of him. As it went, however, the red haze of anger dissipated and with its departure, the recent events came to him in their stead.

_ You think he had a choice? _

What did the Fallen  _ mean _ by that?

Disturbed, he glanced at the sky again, trying to divine where Megatron might’ve retreated. They were long gone, by now, disappeared over the blue slice of horizon to unknown parts and the human military was too scattered to adequately tracked them. But still, the seedling of doubt germinated in his processor, too stubborn to be easily banished.

No  _ choice _ …  _ no choice _ . Megatron had been revived by the Fallen to serve his purposes… but had he ever  agreed? Optimus couldn’t imagine the proud mech he’d served beside ever bowing his neck to anyone –  certainly not someone as obviously deranged as the Fallen. He would’ve sued for leadership –   _ violently –  _  long before any plans were executed. 

But what did he mean by starting the war with  _ Optimus _ ?

For this plan? But no… it would have never sat well with the Fallen. Optimus cast his processor back, through millions of years of war, and felt something in him run cold.

No.  _ No _ . That was impossible. It  _ had _ to be.

_ You think he had a choice? _

Megatron had been his  _ brother _ . His  _ other half _ . Their fates had been intertwined so closely that they might as well have been the moon and the sun in the sky, the two sides of the same coin. Prime and Lord Protector –  the two halves of their society, the two halves of something greater. 

The war had been the greatest betrayal and the greatest desecration. Megatron had  _ spat _ upon what he had. Megatron had… he  _ had _ …

 

_ You think he had a choice? _

But what if he  _ hadn’t _ ?

 

Optimus didn't like not being certain. The self-doubt was always a plague on him –   always had been, once leadership fell to his sole shoulders – and it’d been the cause of many fatal mistakes. Optimus Prime cannot falter in anything, because to falter meant to slow down, and what has this war been but a race to the finish line of each other’s destruction?

However, he liked being  _ ignorant _ even less. His original role, before he’d ever been a warrior and murderer, had been intellectual. His life’s whole passion had been the pursuit and archival of knowledge, lovingly discovered and carefully preserved for future generations. When Optimus Prime did not know something, then he needed to  _ solve _ it.

He tore off the last of Jetfire’s wing upgrade before the other Autobots caught up to him. Then he was on the move, issuing orders left and right, ready to face the music even as the murmurs of his doubt rang in his processor.

 

_ You think he had a choice? _


	2. Hurt

“Retreat was last tracked to Africa, using satellite imagery and and hypothetical scenarios.”

“You used pictures and guesswork to estimate his location?”

“I’d like to see  _ you _ do better.” Agent Simmons was released from prison thanks to some interference on the behalf of the Autobots, and he’d been, by far, the most useful human resource on this planet. He had both savvy with the government and less legal lanes of action, and something knowing came to him when Optimus first came to him with his questions.

“Which part of Africa? It’s a big landmass, even for us.”

“Somewhere uninhabited, obviously. Big. We’re talking the mountains or the deserts.”

“Megatron is too damaged to have made the trip up a mountain. A desert would be his best possible choice.”

“Well… Africa has deserts. Big, wide, empty deserts. Trying to scan  _ all _ of it would take weeks, if we can even convince the right people to give up their birds for what might be a wild goose chase.”

None of them were techies, but Earth technology was  _ primitive _ by their standards. Yanking out a few scanners and using it to discreetly pick up a human satellite for a quiet scan wouldn’t be too hard. “If we could  _ divert _ a few…?”

“...well, that’s illegal.” Simmons doesn’t sound convinced by his own argument. Besides, what were a few satellites for the greater good? “You could… I don’t know, hijack Google and take their birds out for a spin. You might see a whole lot of desert and nothing before you find something –  if there is actually anything to  _ find _ .”

Simmons peered up at Optimus, faintly suspicious. “Is this going to be a fight?”

He had no answer for that, so Optimus just inclined his helm. “Thank you, Agent Simmons. I will inform you when our operations are underway.”

For a human civilian, Agent Simmons is adept enough to pick up  _ shut up and walk, soldier _ with no further prompting.

Optimus retreated, processor spinning with potential plans. There was the Sahara, the Kalahari, the Namib… the list went on. They diverted civilian satellites for the most part, using them to run rapid scans of the Earth’s surface to locate anything that might be even faintly Cybertronian. It was only after three weeks of no results, however, that they found a tiny settlement of assorted garbage in the south-west Namib.

“I will go myself.”

Bumblebee let out a few protesting binary squawks at that, but the questions that came up were few and scattered. Everyone was on edge after the Fallen’s failed plan –  partially because the pyrrhic victory of the Megatron’s revival even after the destruction of the Star Harvester hung heavily on their helms. In the miasma of encroaching despair, there were few protests left in anyone’s sparks.

Getting there from North America is the real challenge. A few twisted arms and a hefty number of favors from Simmons and NEST alike, however, giave him the leverage he needed to be shipped across borders and the Atlantic. 

“Be careful,” were Lennox’s parting words before Optimus was left alone on the continent with his commlink and a picture to guide himself.

 

Well. It was time to find him. And then, Optimus could finally decide what his greatest mistake was: letting Megatron live or killing him for good.

 

This desert was much like the Sea of Rust. 

If you replaced the turbofoxes and scavengers with organic fauna, replaced the few trees and sandy hills with derelict transports and a scattering of predacon remains, it was almost identical.

Except on Earth, the horizon lacked Cybertron's imperious architecture. Here, the sky was clear, and blue, and there was only one tiny moon at night.

It wasn't home. It wasn't anything close to it. Earth was his purgatory, a world he was doomed to be stranded on time and time again, it seemed. Encased in ice, buried in an ocean, now isolated to the wilderness. Earth just didn't want to let him go. Megatron could only muster up so much hatred for a place, and it was waning by the day.

Because for the first time in a lifetime, he could  _ think _ . He was _ free _ . 

Free of the Fallen's voice, commanding, demanding, without allowing Megatron's input. He had been a puppet, and he'd woken from his enthrallment slow and to a world on fire. When Optimus Prime slew the last of the original thirteen, he ended Megatron's hellish existence as his slave. 

He remembered it all. He remembered watching himself tear Cybertron apart, ruining their home and betraying the mech he loved above all; his brother, his Prime, Optimus. 

Cybertron burned; Megatron launched himself into deep space. Then, ice, humans, half an eternity as their lab experiment, feeling the Allspark so close, the life-giver of their entire race, in clumsy human hands, subjected to their poking and prodding as he could only watch. His parts, examined, extracted, turned into something alien. Humans advanced themselves, their technology, making unnatural leaps and forsaking the notion that their prisoner in ice was silently seething.

Freedom, in the Fallen's chains, the Allspark, united with his spark. The end, he had welcomed. But it was not to be so. The Decepticons, in their mad scramble and under the Fallen's guidance, pulled him out of what had been a welcome reprieve, at peace, one with the Allspark, listening to the soft song of Primus in the darkness.

And he was back. Still earth, still there was Optimus. Now colder, as far removed from their own kind as could be. Optimus, sacrificing himself for a single human life. Megatron watching himself impale his beloved, helpless to stop. 

When he knelt to the Fallen, he died more thoroughly than when the Allspark ripped his spark apart. 

And now, he was free.

 

Free and lost, because he had no ship, no guidance, and a very small handful of forces.  There was no chance of conquering this world, or of devising a plan to save their own, ravaged planet. 

He came to a halt, engine rumbling and tires crunching sand. This altmode didn't suit him, a faint echo of Optimus...if he had been through several apocalypses, maybe. 

He transformed with a roar that echoed across the desert, animal herds scattering in the distance. He could already hear the quiet cries of the hatchlings. The only ones he'd managed to save from the Fallen's ship, and their survival chances dwindled by the day. They'd have to make do with siphoned energon, again, from his tanks.

"Don't be so greedy, my fragile ones," he crooned softly, sprinkling his pitiful bounty into their beeping and trilling little intakes. Just a mere handful, and they were unlikely to ever mature. Their species was doomed. By his hand. 

 

The Namib is a massive desert, almost featureless in some parts. Optimus drove slowly, keeping care to stay far from human settlements, and vaigated the wilderness as subtly as a machine his size could manage. His brilliant red and blue had been muted to a far more acceptable tone for the dusky colors of the desert, but he was still exceptionally out of place.

Still. He had a goal. The location of the hovel they’d caught on camera was only a day’s drive away –  less, if Optimus hurried. He didn’t, however, mindful of the dust that rose under his wheels whenever he sped up. It was too distinct to risk. Even a half-blind mech could tell the difference between a sandstorm and a dust trail brought on by rolling wheels.

It was this same care that made him wait for nightfall before he approached the tiny settlement. It was… a mess. There was garbage strewn about, half-burnt husks of metal that he can no longer recognize everywhere. A few lights weakly blinked, but they were dim and poorly organized. Something small and many-legged skittered through the darkness and Optimus tensed, his blade at the ready.

Should he call out for him? Should he sneak in until he can find the mech himself?

He ran his scanners again, and when more than one spot of life flared across his HUD, Optimus’ blade arm rose.  _ Decepticons _ . How many lay in wait here? Were they camouflaged as the wreckage or hidden by cloaks?

Sneak it iwas.

Slowly, he prowled forward.

 

As stealthy as a Prime could be, he was only noticed by optics sharper than Megatron’s. Laserbeak and Soundwave had only come to support their lord once he had regained his right mind and called for his most loyal advisor. 

It was Laserbeak who noted the massive presence, the frame, even if it was adapted to the desert, too big an oddity not to be seen by the attentive flier.

Soundwave’s transmission was silent, but it roused Megatron from his unrestful recharge nonetheless. The scitter-scatter of the tiny medic drone over his helm did nothing to disrupt his mood. Something large, an Autobot, maybe even Prime himself. Was this his end? Had they hunted them down?

The hatchlings, nestled over his frame at various intersections, woke when he moved to stand up. Megatron wouldn’t meet his doom face down in the sand of an alien world. They hissed, detecting the field of another mech through the darkness much better than Megatron ever could. His field projector had been one of the most severely damaged parts of his helm. His right optic still didn’t function properly, didn’t give him any field of vision on that entire side. 

“If you are here to execute me, at least let me see you.” Megatron turned his helm so his left optic could compensate for his lacking vision. His vocalizer crackled, engine roaring loud enough to drown out the beeping static from the hatchlings on him.

 

“Megatron.” Optimus materialized out of the shadows as his headlights flared to life. Biolights lit up around his frame, blue and soft, to add the lights display. He hefted his blade higher, pointing the edge to the warlord.

“This isn’t an execution. At least, it isn’t yet.” It depended, really. The Fallen’s last words rang around his audials, damning and intriguing at once, and Optimus needed to  _ know _ . If Megatron was the same, then he would crush him for good. If he wasn’t… Optimus hadn’t planned that far ahead.

His optics flickered around, trying to sense the other Decepticons in the area. “The rest of your warriors can come out too,” he said coolly.

 

Megatron shifted, ignoring the sparks flying from his helm as the medic drone clung to him as he turned his helm, growling something into the darkness. 

It wasn’t a big handful of warriors that emerged into the light. Soundwave, smaller than Megatron by far and glistening with plating that hadn’t seen Earth weather for long, Laserbeak on his shoulder and Ravage at his side. Starscream, still as spiteful and gibbering as before. Barricade, flanked by two tanks whose names had never been relevant enough to spread.

Megatron watched Optimus warily. He was in no shape for a fight, nor in a frame of mind to thirst for one. His Prime looked good, almost looking newly forged under the light layer of desert sand. The matrix had restored him fully and his victory over the Fallen must have felt...satisfying? Megatron didn’t know. Couldn’t really analyze a perspective he’d lost sight of so long ago. Had Optimus even known that the Fallen had been his adversary, or had the hatred permeated the Prime’s every thought of his once Lord Protector? Did it still matter?

“And what, pray tell, prolongs my stay of execution?” 

There was no sense in telling Optimus that he was a prisoner to the Fallen, that he had tried to stop himself, he had tried to warn his other half, he’d tried...and failed, many, many times. Megatron scratched his talons, three awkward, spindly digits, over his open brain module. It sent a convulsion through his biolights and the medic drone chittered angrily at him for it.

 

“Did you serve the Fallen willingly?” The Decepticons that came out make him tense. Soundwave didn’t have his usual resources, but it had never been fighting skill that had made him so feared. Barricade and Starscream were both smaller than him, and he was confident he can make them run if it came to that. He wasn’t sure of the two tanks, however, and his blade wavered in their direction.

It wasn’t a fight yet. In the dark, Optimus could see only so much of Megatron, but what he saw wasn’t… good. He was a wreck, more or less, near skeletal. His usual bulk was hollowed out and sparks emanated from the open case of his brain module. Megatron made for a pitiful sight –  a long fall from the proud mech that’d served beside Optimus.

 

Silence greeted Optimus’ question and no one dared to break it. Optics turned to Megatron out of obligation, only his command and next words would determine what would happen, and whether or not the Prime would regret hunting them down in this remote corner of the world.

Megatron took his time as he mulled over the question. Would Optimus believe the truth? Did he have any reason to doubt the millions of years passed between them, the war and battles made personal through their every confrontation?

The former warlord, a mere shadow of himself, swivelled his helm back, one baleful red optic facing Optimus’ bright headlights. 

“No.”

Would it matter? Probably not. Megatron isn’t the only one who has changed.

“Never.”

The hatchlings chirp again, their hunger awakened in the presence of so many healthy engines. Megatron could do nothing to quell the noise they made as he offered them a broken hole in his tank, the energon clinging to the sides of it eagerly lapped up by the starving younglings.

 

“No?” Optimus echoed. Slag. He’d expected something else, in all honesty. Defiance, maybe. Certainly belligerence. This new, tired Megatron was one he hadn’t seen since… the  _ beginning _ of the war. It left him flat-footed, suddenly unsure of his position.

He glanced at Megatron again, after his optics swept over the crowd around them. Something small and alive skittered over him –  some _ things _ . They squeaked and chirped, and Optimus blanched when he realized where he’d heard that same noise, so long ago.

“You have… sparklings?” How? Where? Were they Megatron’s own, or were these the little mutations that arose from the Allspark’s presence on Earth? He watched the energon drip into their hungry maws and felt something uncomfortable twist in him.

With a  _ shhk _ , he sheathed his blade. “Call off your soldiers,” Optimus said, even if the thought of not being able to watch all of them made him wary. “We need to talk.”

 

“Do we?” Megatron didn’t make any motions to dismiss his tightening circle of warriors. They were only a few, but they would protect him, if need be. Even Starscream felt the protective protocols that took hold of warframes in the presence of young sparks in need.

Megatron’s helm turned away, as did most of his frame. Apart from their little camp, everything was drenched in absolute darkness. There was nowhere to go that Prime wouldn’t follow him to, nowhere to hide from the consequences of his long years as the Fallen’s puppet.

“I haven’t heard you so unwilling to fight me in millennia.”

Something had changed, and Megatron doubted it was the cluster of sparklings clinging to his frame. They were his own, and he’d give every scrap of his frame to keep them alive.

 

“Would you rather we cross blades here? I could say the same to you.” Once upon a time, the only words they would have exchanged would’ve been battle cries before clashing in a titanic heave of metal. Now, however, perspectives changed.  _ Situations _ changed. 

Still, he tensed as the Decepticons drew closer slowly. It’s not so much that he moved for his blade, but a few more steps would be enough to snap Optimus’ fragile offer, and have him ripping through their midst. Megatron was weak now –  it would take a clean strike at his sparkchamber to finish him for good.

“If I wanted a fight, I wouldn’t have bothered trying to talk.” He looked down at the tiny creatures clinging to Megatron’s chassis, gibbering in their speechless noise, helpless. “Don’t endanger  _ them _ , at least.” If it came to it, Optimus would fight. But for once, he would like to just  _ not _ .

 

Megatron’s arm moved in front of his chassis, shielding the sparklings from Prime’s threatening presence. He was the only danger here, whether he acknowledged it or not.

“Disperse.” the former warlord growled, and his Decepticons scattered into the darkness. Megatron didn’t move away from the Prime, instead angling his helm so he could look down at his hungry brood. The amount of time it took him to simply look at something that wasn’t right in front of him was becoming just one of the many grievances he dealt with daily.

“So. Talk.”

He didn’t feel particularly hopeful about this confrontation. They’d spent too long fighting each other, killing each other, to believe any of that harm could be undone.

 

“The Fallen told me something, before I killed him.” Optimus didn’t try to edge closer. Instead, he circled Megatron, never allowing him to keep a bead on him. He stuck to his blind side, avoiding his optic whenever he could.

“He said he  _ picked _ you. For the  _ war _ . And that you didn’t have a choice. Is this true?”

He didn’t dare hope. But it still unfurled in him, tight and painful with how jagged its edges were. So much had  _ happened _ . So many had died. Optimus was a far cry from the archaeologist and peaceful archivist he’d been once. It was just one of the many sacrifices he’d had to make in the wake of the war. 

 

“I don’t know so much about picked...but there is something that, perhaps, you need to understand.”

Megatron kept turning, chasing the Prime with his ailing field of vision, and frustrated that he couldn’t quite keep up. He didn’t trust Optimus behind him, or to his right, or in front to be perfectly honest. But he’d dismissed his warriors and left himself at the mercy of the mech he used to know so well.

“Do you recall...oh, it was long ago, wasn’t it?” Megatron took a seat, no longer wishing to stand in the presence of his Prime and giving up the goal of keeping him in his line of sight. The sparklings, sated for now, searched his chassis for gaps in armor, huddling to his protoform as if they were his symbiotes.

“The relics you discovered...outside of Privenel. The ones we discussed before the Shevelli attacked,” Megatron’s memory of it was crystal. If he wasn’t so damaged, he would have displayed it for Optimus to see, though the Prime may yet think it a deception. He expected nothing more out of Megatron, that much was clear.

“One of them was a sarcophagus. The Fallen’s sarcophagus.”

And from said sarcophagus, the Prime formerly known as Megatronus had claimed Megatron’s mind, had twisted his passion to hatred and his ambition to calculated madness. The war ignited their world, and everything dear to Megatron became his bane.

“It would be juvenile to say my state of mind did not invite his presence. But I can say, with confidence,” Megatron sounded anything but, “I could not stop him or his use of me as his instrument of war. I was weak, and desperate to do what a Lord Protector should. I did not know the cost of accepting his aid. Now I do. And it is far, far too late.”


	3. Novocaine

Just as he’d feared. Optimus vented, sharp and angry, feeling a sudden  _ need _ to fight. It’d solved matters where peace and words couldn’t. It’d been a balm on the tight ball of rage that festered when he saw Megatron, once-brother, once-lover.

It was a pity he cannot kill the Fallen a  _ second _ time.

“You should’ve listened to me, then,” Optimus muttered, bitter. “I told you to stay away from them. But we’re not here because you ever  _ listened _ .”

It was a low blow, but Optimus had gone beyond feeling sorry for such things. This war had always been the most personal struggle for him. A Prime and his Lord Protector, fighting. It was  _ sacrilege _ .

He stalked through the night again, prowling to get the energy out without a fight to aid his helpless, directionless fury. “The Fallen is dead. Is he gone from your mind at last?”

 

Megatron kept quiet on his argument that it had been Optimus’ lack of adhering to his advice that had cost them the first line of defence and had injured the Lord Protector so severely that he had sought out the relics in hope of discovering something, anything that would help him survive. Optimus had still been on his excavation when Megatron had to defend their whole planet.

“He is. It is...not as refreshing as I had believed during the last millennia. Freedom tastes sour with the doom of our species on my hands.”

 

“Perhaps not immediately.”  _ Your fault again _ , he wanted to say, but it would be redundant. They both know what Megatron did.

“Those sparklings on you… where did they come from?” How long has it been since he’s seen a living cluster of them? So long… _ too _ long. And now they nestled up to Megatron like he was a caring broodmare. It was slightly ridiculous. His grotesque injuries only added to the absurdity.

Optimus wanted to reach out and touch them, but he was wary of Megatron, even like this.

“How are you feeding them?”

 

Immediately, Megatron felt more defensive of his offspring. Their incubation had surpassed his icy imprisonment, and they had been among hundreds on board of the Fallen’s ship. The very same that was now a lifeless ruin.

“I always strode to ensure Cybertronian survival as a species,” Megatron ignored any objections the Prime might make to that statement, he knew it was true enough. He’d tried to undermine the Fallen’s control over him, and the deceitful Prime had allowed Megatron to at least keep his sparklings alive.

“These here came from me. I had my sparklings among thousands of others on my ship...the Fallen’s ship. The energon reserves there kept them alive, though developing much more slowly than they would have back home.”

Megatron watched a particularly bold sparkling crawl over his shoulder until it rested against his kibble. He kept his optic on the innocent young creature, rather than the baleful Prime.

“They need energon. There’s only one source left of it to give to them.” Megatron’s talon tapped the vast hole in his tank.

 

He wanted to ask who the sire was, but held his glossa. Instead, he looked over the sparklings instead, and found himself profoundly disturbed by the famished way they dug at the drip of Megatron’s leaking tank. It was no way to raise a sparkling. They would be premature, ill-formed. How did Megatron expect to keep these little ones alive and heal himself at once? He could have one or the other –  not both.

He should kill him now. While his warriors were gone, while he wasn’t looking. It would end the war. It would stop this. It would finally cut away the final, rotting part of Optimus’ sparkchamber for good.

_ You think he had a choice? _

Megatron didn’t have a choice.

But Optimus did.

“Not only one.” He stepped closer, finally, and offered the exposed line of the tube on his inner arm. It was thick and well insulated, but a nick of his blade could pierce it. “I will not watch you kill yourself  _ and _ them slowly when I can do something to help.”

Every instinct screamed at him to end Megatron, here and now. But Optimus clung to the Fallen’s dying words, repeating them in his mind like a mantra. He’d never been a violent mech. War, betrayal, and the horror of the destruction of his home and species wrought the killer that now stood here.

 

The sparklings took note of Optimus, and their chirping grew once more. Their tiny sensors were better at picking up the truth of their heritage than Optimus’ lacking courage to ask and their binary wailing was being directed at the Prime’s most basic protocols.

Megatron held them back though, not yet trusting the good intention of his lover turned bitter enemy.

“Why? Our survival shouldn’t matter to you,” there was a bitterness in his voice, wrangling for dominance over his resignation, “We will all die, without energon, hunted on this world. You ensured that outcome.”

 

“Survival has always mattered to me.” Megatron was deadly wrong if he thought Optimus hadn’t been making sure they could survive long enough to find a way back to Cybertron and repair it once more. It might take another millennia, but it was a sacrifice Optimus was willing to make.

He stepped closer again, until there was only a step’s worth of distance between them. His arm was still out, the tube still offered. He didn’t move to pull out his sword –  it would only alarm Megatron further.

“Are you so intent on arguing that you would hold  _ them _ back?” He nodded at the ravenous sparklings, clamoring for the tube and the energon within.

 

Optimus may not be entirely wrong, but he also continued to be as ruthless an enemy as before. Megatron didn’t have the will or strength to argue with him. His brain module sparked as he concentrated his thoughts, the sparklings wild in his arm, demanding and begging to be released.

Should he trust him? Did he have a choice?

Megatron lifted his arm and the sparklings befell the line, all the more evidence of their terrible condition. They shouldn’t even be capable of feeding on raw energon, but they were starving, and would make do with anything.

“They know you.”

He sighed, leaning his helm to the side, his one good optic on his enemy. Or former enemy. That wasn’t clear yet.

“If you’re going to kill me, will you take care of them? They are yours as well, after all.”

 

And all his questions about who was their sire became null and void. Optimus watched them devour the energon silently, frowning again.

“You know I would,” he said. There are so  _ few _ … what had happened to the rest?

He didn’t want to think about it.

“Do you think a truce between us is possible?” Was it? How can it be, after everything? But how can he blame Megatron for crimes he was forced into? It was a confusing jumble of emotions that tumbled through him, and Optimus withdrew into his stoicism to cope.

He still could not decide if Megatron should die now. Did he even  _ deserve _ to, anymore?

“The plan with the Allspark… was it you, or the Fallen?”

 

Megatron had dozed off, in exhaustion and in thought when Optimus proposed the idea of a truce. In all honesty, he hadn’t considered it possible. Some bridges just didn’t fix so easily, and gaining peace with Prime seemed absolutely impossible given the ferocity of the last battle in which they met.

Optimus was a creature of anger and rage now, much like him. If only Megatron could match him, they could reconcile violently. Like this? He was a pathetic remnant, full of regret and sorrow and not worthy of his Prime. He was a failed Protector, instead having tumbled Cybertron to its doom.

“I had hoped the Allspark could rid me of his presence. I volunteered myself to retrieve it. I couldn’t have calculated with...interference. If you’re talking about my resurrection, it was very much unwanted. I would have been...content to rest.”

 

“Could you have guaranteed that he would not have corrupted it through you?” It is a cruel question to ask, but it was a necessary one. Optimus  _ had _ to know that he’d made the right decision in having the Allspark destroyed, than be allowed to end in Megatron’s servos. In his destruction of Cybertron, he’d committed more desecrations than Optimus could even remember.

The sparklings have moved on, gnawing at other tubes hungrily, and Optimus popped the cap for his tanks, letting them feast while they talked. There were not so many that they could entirely drain him, so he was not worried.

“What did it feel like… in you?” Painful, surely. For something that gave them life, it could be so deadly.

 

Optimus certainly had some loaded questions for him and Megatron let them run through his helm as he observed his sparklings feeding. Perhaps tonight, they’d rest fully sated. It would make for a wonderfully welcomed change no to hear them cry.

“I couldn’t have kept him from the Allspark. I realize that now.” And perhaps, the relic was better destroyed than in the hands of Megatronus, who lost all sanity a long time ago. His tormentor’s pain was of little interest to Megatron though, as he kept his optic on Optimus.

“I cannot...describe what it felt like. I knew power...I thought I did. But it was too much. The pain...it radiated into every part of me, and tore me apart. And yet I felt the Fallen, ravenous, trying to pull it in further. If I had...succeeded in pushing the Allspark out of my chest...I don’t know what might have happened. I knew it would be my end, the moment it touched me.”

The moment Sam Witwicky  _ killed _ Megatron, to be precise.

 

“He should’ve put it in me,” Optimus said, optics downcast. “I didn’t want…”  _ you to touch a holy relic of our people. _ It was a brutal truth. Megatron, in his madness, had taken  _ so much _ . Nothing was sacred to his rampage. But perhaps, it had happened for a reason, the way it did.

Destroying the Allspark, as regrettable as it was, had been his only recourse.

One full sparkling detached from his tank. It skittered down his arm and over to Megatron, hooking into the nook of his chassis with a content mechanical beep.

“So now you are free of the Fallen. I ask you again –  is truce between us possible?”

 

Megatron groaned. Was Optimus really still fool enough not to see he had been victorious? What remained of the Decepticons was scattered among the stars or scrapping for fuel down on Earth. Megatron would never regain his full form, let alone actual repairs. His spirit defeated, his demented master dead, he was a tired mech, tired and broken and finished.

“You already have it. I couldn’t retreat any further without use of my flight altmode.” Megatron caressed the sparkling where it hummed its content. At least someone would be fulfilled tonight.

“Thank you. For your unintentional rescue...of my free will.”

 

Did he really? Optimus looked back again at the Decepticons he could still sense. He wasn’t so sure that they would agree with Megatron’s assessment. He’d gathered them in the height of his madness –  without that, would they even follow him anymore?

“Don’t,” he said, because the tired, almost broken sound in Megatron’s voice made him uncomfortable again. It makde something hot and tight squeeze taut in his chest, too warm and too close. His plating rippled, trying to throw off the unwelcome sensation. “Will your Decepticons follow you, if we were to declare truce?”

Another sated sparkling, happily scampering down his plating and to Megatron’s. Optimus watched them go, wondering at the distance between himself and –  ostensibly –  his own creations. 

 

“I’d be a fool to say absolutely. Some of them were well aware of the Fallen. Others were merely loyal to me.”

Megatron offered Optimus the truth, because there was no longer any sense in deception. He had nothing left, no power, no secret, no scheme. And even so, he lacked the will to execute any of his contingencies. This was it. This was him, raw, defeated, before Optimus Prime, awaiting his sentence.

“But those that do follow me would not disobey. No matter what state I am in, I still command them.” There was the smallest swell of pride in his voice at that.

More sated sparklings came to rest on their carrier. Megatron rumbled a low word of encouragement to the famished creatures.

 

Some. It was better than none, at least. But who here, among this crowd, would follow Megatron? Could even he be sure of it?

“Many of my Autobots would demand that I have you executed.” A part of Optimus argued for much the same. “But I cannot, if you really were unable to control your actions.” It is coded in their law, as clear as daylight. They would have to prove it, of course, but it was there. You cannot persecute the mentally incapable.

It would solve so much, to just kill him. Optimus wished he could, but he knew it was no use. Without the heat of battle pushing him to brutality, simply killing Megatron was beyond his ability.

“Would you come back to me, if I asked?” To put down the mantle of leadership over the Decepticons, surrender his soldiers to Optimus, and to lay down his title of  _ warlord _ . “Would you accept my judgment and my decisions? If I offer mercy now, Megatron, will I expect to see it turned on me in the future?”

 

If Megatron considered the previous question loaded, this one was overwhelming. But it was also the most conclusive, because both of them knew that things had changed now and the Decepticons were no longer driven on by a madmech intent on absolute destruction.

Megatron looked into the shadows, where his soldiers, unseen, listened eagerly. He looked to his sparklings, content for once and resting, their fate entirely on his broken shoulders. And he looked back to Optimus, a million unspoken questions running through his mind.

There was no other choice. None he wanted to make either. The Decepticons...the war...none of it had been his idea. The doom of their species was on him nevertheless, as was the death of their planet. Megatron knew he deserved nothing for his failures, and Optimus had become a hard mech during their war.

“I would return to my Prime’s side and accept what judgement you would bestow upon your failed Protector.”

And know that even if Optimus did not spare him, he would know of their offspring and take care of them, the best he could.

 

It was enough. Optimus vented as he gritted his dentae. The war was done. He picked up the sparklings and dumped them on Megatron, ignoring the protests of the ones who hadn’t managed to completely bloat themselves on his energon. Turning from the mech, Optimus paced a short distance away.

“I accept your surrender,” he said, voice firm despite the shakiness of his spark. Through his commlink, he called.

_ ::The Decepticons have surrendered _ . _ :: _

It will be messy. They would have the stigma of four million years of solid hate between the factions holding them back. There were the humans too, who will want their pound of flesh for the sacrifices that they’d been forced to give. The war might be done, but its consequences were far-reaching.

But his Lord Protector was back, and that should be worth something.

“Gather all that you can,” he said, “and allow yourselves to be taken into custody. There is a long trial ahead of you, Megatron. If you truly regret what this war has created, you will listen to me.”

His Decepticons would most certainly be convicted of war crimes. His whole name and reputation would always be tarnished. The Autobots will hate him, forever, and their planet was still dead. Would Megatron accept all that for the mere, measly offer of repairing things with his Prime?

 

Does he have a choice, now?

Megatron’s optic flickered, and he made no move to gather anything at all. He didn’t want to go anywhere, be taken apart again, have humans crawl over his frame. Could they not agree to a truce, and for the Decepticons to remain here, in the desert? A little energon delivery for the sparklings was all Megatron wanted, enough fuel to keep himself and those that followed him alive.

But Optimus was as imperious as any other Prime, and he would not bow or bend the rules of his newly coined peace. Which saw no power in Megatron’s claws to negotiate at all.

All he could do was bow to Optimus’ will.

“As you command, Lord Prime.”

There’s nothing more than a thin, bitter note in his voice as Megatron transformed around his sparklings, his new altmode a decrepit version of Optimus with far more weaponry attached than necessary. The long trailer served as housing to his sparklings, who were content to nestle into the safety of their carrier’s alt.

“...Decepticons. We’re departing.”

 

Optimus transformed as well, though he had no trailer to burden him. As he watched, so did the other Decepticons, though far more reluctantly than Megatron had. He could sense the seeds of dissent among them, but hopefully it would hold out until they were out of Africa. There was a long way to go to their pick-up zone and this fragile peace did not need a fight to muck the lines up.

_ ::Can you hear me?::  _ He hadn’t used this connection in such a long time. It felt old to him, antiquated. Would Megatron even respond over this line?

They needed to get the coasts. Not as far as Optimus himself had gone, of course. The Angolan coast would be a good pick-up zone for them. 

 

_ ::Didn’t think you’d still use this comm.:: _ Megatron could practically hear the line crack with static. It was a little surreal, to be able to speak with Optimus again. He’d been resigned to the fact that his Prime was far out of his reach, taken away by his foolishness in not sensing what the Fallen truly had planned for them...

He really had failed his position, Optimus’ trust and all of Cybertron.

Behind him, various flightframes and tanks as well as Barricade filed into an orderly line, all ready to surge forward should their lord demand it.

 

Optimus drove outside the line, slowing and speeding up as needed like a sheepdog guiding his herd. He lingered especially near the back, where the heavy weights were, keeping a watchful optic out for them.  _ ::I will use it if the need arises.:: _

With a  _ honk _ of his horn, he began to guide them all to the coast, rapidly negotiating with the Autobots over his own general ‘bot line. There was a lot of dissent going on currently, as they argued back and forth over the fate of Megatron and his Decepticons.

_ ::What happened to the rest of your mecha?:: _

 

_ ::Fled the planet whilst they still could. Some were beyond repair, so they’ve been serving as sustenance.::  _ Megatron had no qualms about divulging in what bad shape they all were. The burned out husks Optimus spotted around his camp? Stripped frames, drained and scoured for parts necessary for the most basic repairs.

The Decepticons behind Megatron moved in tight formation, keeping up with their leader’s trailer and its precious cargo.

 

_ ::They are all you have?::  _ Optimus drove until he was level with Megatron. Their twin headlights lit up the roadless expanse before them. Few animals were out at this hour, so there was nothing to catch the light save the occasional bit of shrubbery they passed.

Another point to argue for. There was little point in reducing one’s enemy to nothingness when they already were close enough to such a state. Now, survival and rebuilding was cardinal.

_ ::We can repair you. Not fully, I’m afraid, but enough so at least your brain module isn’t showing.::  _ Megatron was a mess. Optimus could catch the way his damaged brain expressed itself –  the exhaustion, the sudden falter in his entire frame when one too many circuits were skipped over.

 

_ ::It doesn’t matter. Feed the sparklings and spare the energon.::  _ Megatron revved his engine. Just because he was falling apart didn’t mean he was incapable. True, he could no longer fly, and his self-repair was beyond taking on all of this damage, but he could still move, and fight, if need be. 

_ ::You aren’t handing us over to the humans, I hope.:: _

Because he’d rather be dead permanently than be at human mercy again.

 

_ ::Human involvement in this will be kept to a strict minimum.::  _ Optimus wasn’t blind to how greedily certain humans took to their technology. They hadn’t gone  _ too _ far, but he wasn’t naive enough to think they didn’t have the potential to. Sam and his family were good people, but they were only three.

_ ::I think discussing what our future looks like is important. For the foreseeable future, we are all stranded on Earth.::  _ They needed a reliable source of energon. They needed a way to get off this planet. And most importantly, they needed to find a way to repair Cybertron.

 

_ ::Entirely dependent on your pets.::  _ Megatron didn't like it in the slightest. The only ace he had left up his sleeve was Shockwave, the greatest Decepticon engineer to have ever lived. Shockwave's prowess was known, well beyond the limits of Megatron's former troops.

Best not keep him a secret from the trigger happy Prime.

_ ::Shockwave is on his way.:: _

 

_ ::He will be useful.::  _ It would take strenuous negotiations to figure out how much the Cybertronians could give up in exchange for the supplies necessary to engineer their own escape. The humans would want everything they could give –  and then some. Then there was the whole mess with the Decepticon trials… Optimus sighed. At this rate, a century’s stay on Earth might be their future. It was nothing compared to the war, but it was another century away from  _ home _ .

_ ::You realize we can’t afford division within our ranks anymore?::  _ The more they fought, the less they progressed. The more they fought, the more was  _ destroyed _ . Unity was paramount if they were to escape Earth and revive their planet.  _ ::I realize this is still premature, but I need to be able to trust you, Megatron. No more half truces because a greater enemy threatened both of us. If we want to  _ **_fix_ ** _ Cybertron, then we must put our  _ **_all_ ** _ into it.:: _

Not to mention that Optimus didn’t need to give the humans anymore  _ fodder  _ against them. The Decepticons’ presence had done much to wreck what goodwill had been worked up.

 

_ ::And how am I to prove myself to you Prime? I hardly think you'll take my word for my good intentions.:: _

How did Optimus intend to convince even the most stubborn of mecha that cooperation was paramount to their survival? Megatron did not doubt that some among his rank would challenge this surrender. And in his current shape, Megatron was in no position to discipline them as he might. He'd always been a headstrong leader, prone to immediate violence if disobedience made itself known.

 

_ ::By the sword, if I must.::  _ His Autobots would fall in line, once the arguments died down. If not, Optimus would deal with them  _ himself _ . As for Megatron’s Decepticons…

_ ::We have time. Some, I hope, will come around. If not… our guns are ever ready.::  _ The war had taken its toll on all of them. If things went far enough, then Optimus wouldn’t hesitate to put down any rabid  _ loose ends _ . It was unfortunate, but it was  _ necessary _ .

_ ::I do hope, given time, that you could prove your trustworthiness to me.::  _ Of course, what happened once he was repaired and no longer a cripple was a whole new topic. Megatron was dangerous even like this –  was it folly to give him full functionality?

 

Megatron could only guess what the Prime was considering. His quick resort to force was undoubtedly a mark of the cruelty of their war. Optimus had become an equally ruthless commander in charge as Megatron had ever been. Some part of him was proud of the formidable warrior his Prime had become.

_ ::Repair me. Give me back my strength. I will put it at your command as it always should have been.:: _

 

Some part of him was pleased by the declaration, even if Optimus chose to say nothing about it. It felt good to have his Lord Protector back at his side, however short-lived it could be. His curiosity, however, refused to be satisfied by only that.

_ ::Did the Fallen take you over completely?::  _ Was it mind control, or him simply  _ influencing _ Megatron into his atrocities? And why, if Megatron,  _ his _ Megatron, had been controlled, then Optimus not been able to catch it? What kind of control could the Fallen have exerted to have  _ changed _ Megatron so? Nothing could be hidden in the bond –  repressed, silenced, and muted, but never  _ hidden _ . When Optimus first ventured into Megatron’s spark to understand the change that came over him, he’d seen nothing but  _ destruction _ .

_ ::Your spark, mind… was it all his?:: _

 

That was a monumental question to be asking, and Megatron wasn’t sure that he could answer it adequately. Ever since his mind had been free, he’d been so damaged that even his processor worked slowly and with faults. He’d tried to understand how the Fallen could hold him under his complete control, turning Megatron into his sword with no will of his own. 

It hadn’t been like that from the beginning. At first, the Fallen had lent him strength to defend his world. And then, he’d began whispering of the poisonous legacy of the Primes; how Optimus would too, inevitably, become like his ancestors, a treacherous fool who would limit the Cybertronian race to their slow but steady extinction. And then, the fires of war and anger had corrupted what remained of Megatron himself.

_ ::I could no longer feel you. Our bond was silent, I...I was convinced that it had been severed. That you were no longer yourself as I knew you. I cannot tell you to what extent it was the Fallen, but I couldn’t feel you anymore.:: _

Megatron couldn’t adequately convey how lost he’d been, how much it had hurt to think Optimus was no longer at his side. And then, it had become reality, and his Prime had stood against him, labelled him a monster, a warmonger.

_ ::My mind was nothing but hatred, his, mine, intermingled. My spark could not reach you, or anything, could not even feel the life ebb from our homeworld. The first I felt of it again was when the boy pushed the Allspark into me.:: _

 

Their bond had been stale since the war. Optimus had long since practiced the effort of shunting it to the side as a distraction, forgetting how it felt to keep it open to feel Megatron on the other side. Now, however, he let it bloom across his processor, slowly. It felt awkward now. The natural ease with which they’d inhabited each other’s bonds was long gone, replaced by resentment and mistrust.

_ ::Can you feel me?:: _

Could he feel Megatron? Optimus was no longer sure. He’d always felt him, yes, but that sensation was stiff and static. The dynamism of their bond had departed with Megatron’s control of himself.

 

Megatron’s engine wheezed, tires grinding sand as he swerved slightly. The bond, open for the first time in millennia, felt like balm on his pained mind, even though it was a mere shadow of itself, all things considering. It was steeped in mistrust and suspicion, which were understandable, even if they did make things a little unclear, nearly static. But Optimus was _ there _ . Alive, present, attentive, everything that had been so wrong, missing from Megatron’s life, was right there on the other end. The crippled warframe devoured what he could of it, his spark whirling madly in his chassis. 

_ ::Yes.:: _

He couldn’t bring himself to say more. He didn’t want to formulate how weak he’d been without his other half, nor did he want to show Optimus what a wretched wreck his former Lord Protector had become. 

 

_ ::Good.:: _

Optimus opened the bond as wide as it could go. From a trickle, it transformed into an ocean, wide and deep and  _ full _ . It was everything Optimus had felt, right until the point the bond had closed on him.


	4. In Joy and Sorrow

_ Megatron, where are you? Respond? _

_ The war was going well, all things considered, but his bond to Megatron was closed. No matter how hard Optimus pushed at it, he felt nothing but a curious kind of hollowness. He could feel Megatron, yes, but he couldn’t feel him like he were a living thing. Optimus never heard of anything like it, and anxiety made him push harder, trying to gain Megatron’s attention. _

_ Megatron, please. We need to talk about the war. We have to convene for a full conference. The people need us. _

_ And yet, nothing. _

_ Megatron, respond! _

_ What was happening? _

_ … _

_ War. _

_ War was happening. _

_ Optimus couldn’t believe it, when he first heard. But it true. Every broadcast and holovid showed the same thing – mecha who call themselves “Decepticons” tearing through civilians with Megatron at their lead, dealing slaughter with the same techniques he and Optimus learned in their younger days. _

_ But it couldn’t be. He’d tried to reach out, tried to call for Megatron’s attention and demand to know what he was doing. Demand. Ask. Beg. It all got the same answer. _

**_Nothing_ ** _. _

_ … _

_ Perhaps, however, Optimus didn’t believe it all until the day he met Megatron in person. It’d been a hasty ceasefire and Optimus had scrambled to the front lines, determined to understand what Megatron was doing. _

_ His reply had been a fusion cannon to his chest and the same terrible, empty silence. Whatever Megatron might’ve bellowed at him then matter little, because the silence in their bond was answer enough. _

_ … _

_ You left me. _

_ You betrayed me. _

_ You hurt me. _

_ You  _ **_killed_ ** _ me. _

_... _

Knowing it was control wasn’t enough to assuage the millennia’s worth of pain that festered under Optimus’ stoic exterior. Knowing it wasn’t enough to forgive the countless battles, the millions murdered, and the legion of betrayals Megatron had wreaked on Optimus over and over. Each truce broken by the opening roar of a fusion cannon. Each offer spat upon and thrown at his feet. The countless horrors Optimus had witnessed until the mech he was became as broken and twisted as Megatron himself. Megatron had the excuse of mind control to pass over his brutality – Optimus didn’t. Each murder that stained his servos were his alone. 

_ ::Now we’re even.:: _

For Optimus, it had always been personal.

 

_ Onslaught _ was the only thing Megatron could title what Optimus was unleashing on his processor. His damaged processor, which had a hard time even keeping him functional without an influx of data and emotions, lashing out over a bond that had been closed for so long.

The beaten old truck swerved off of the road, coming to a messy standstill that nearly had the Decepticons behind them crash into the trailer. They transformed, alarmed, gathering around the trembling chassis of Megatron, who nearly buckled under the mental agony of a millennia steeped in hatred, betrayal and pain.

Apologizing hardly seemed appropriate. 

“My liege?” Starscream questioned, quick glances passing between his unresponsive leader and Optimus Prime, who clearly must have been the source of it all.

Megatron slowly, manually, had to rearrange every distressed circuit in his processor, the medic drone that seemed to be his constant companion scrabbling over his cab and behind his tattered smokestacks.

_ ::I...deserved that.:: _

His pride didn’t matter, even if it did object. Carefully, Megatron stemmed the bond, tried to apply a filter to the raw wound it ripped into his spark. His trailer came alive with distressed chirping, but he growled the sparklings into silence.

 

As if to soothe the pain, Optimus stopped the tide and replaced it with the even patience he’d become so known for. Transforming, he laid his servo on the roof of the trailer, growling engine to quiet the sparklings inside. Smoke streamed out of Megatron’s frame thanks to his data dump overwhelming his circuits, but it would pass. Megatron was tough enough to withstand even this.

_ ::I won’t do it again.::  _ It was his first, and last, return to the dark days during the Fallen’s reign. Optimus hoped it would stay buried, once and for all.

“Can you move?”

 

He could, but he certainly didn’t want to waste any energy to transform. He sent a wordless confirmation, engine clicking on again as he inched forward. The Decepticons still eyed Optimus with suspicion, but if their leader gave no order to attack, they wouldn’t risk engaging an enemy as dangerous as their leader at full strength.

The sparklings settled again, the only beings content in this small round.

_ ::If you...could, please, leave the bond open.:: _

 

_ ::Always. You aren’t the only one who missed it.:: _

With a series of whirrs, Optimus was back in his alt mode and driving again. He kept his pace slow until Megatron could speed up, sensors trained on the Decepticons all the while. Saying he didn’t trust them was keeping it mild.

_ ::Pick-up will happen on the coast of Angola. They will ship us across the Atlantic Ocean on three military ocean carriers. You need to promise me the absolutely obedience of your fliers while we’re on the water.:: _

The obvious disadvantage both Optimus and the humans would be at on the open ocean was clear. Water-based Autobots had all died out some time ago, and there were no submersibles that could carry even a small Autobot. If it came down to a fight…

_ ::If not, I may have to kill someone. I think neither of us want that.:: _

 

_ ::If you do, make it Starscream.:: _

Megatron gave the slightest of chuckles at the notion of Prime blasting the clever flier out of the sky. Soundwave would obey without a doubt, the same could be said for his symbiotes. He would prefer to fly himself, but in his current state, that was impossible. Hauler or tank, neither was suited for aerial acrobatics.

He relayed the command for absolute discipline to his soldiers, who knew better than to voice their concern and doubt. If dissent existed among his humble ranks, Megatron would not tolerate it openly.

And as much as he might believe that this was all that was left of his forces, Cybertron still teemed with mecha loyal to him and him alone. Mecha that had followed Megatron the Lord Protector, rather than the crazed, ancient Prime who inhabited his mind.

_ ::I cannot fly. If they dare shoot at something carrying my sparklings, I will end them myself, even if only an optic and dentae remain of me.:: _

 

_ ::Our sparklings.::  _ They wouldn’t. Optimus intended to keep  _ that _ cargo close under his watch. Megatron wasn’t the only one who felt protective over them.

_ ::Stay alert. ETA for pick-up is an hour.:: _

…

The three carriers they’d been promised came to a stop a mile out from shore. Their options here on out were wading out to the ships themselves or being picked up by a squadron of helicopters to be airdropped. The depth that far out to the ships would reach well up to Optimus’ waist, perhaps higher, but the carriers couldn’t go in any closer without risking grounding. The whole operation, according the Captain Lennox, was hush-hush. The Angolan government didn’t know they were here and the US government was pretending they didn’t know either.

“Airdrop would be the best option,” Optimus said, even as he looked at his motley group of Decepticons. “They can’t move around, however. Frankly, staying in alt mode would be for the best. No transformation during the trip.”

 

“Very well.” Megatron had not bothered to leave his altmode, not wishing to disturb his precious cargo and simply conserving energy. An airdrop didn’t sound particularly pleasant, especially because it put them in the hands of humans, but cooperation with Optimus and his disgusting pets was the only way forward for all of them.

“Soundwave and Starscream will be our escort. Soundwave can ensure we’re not detected by the...whatever you said was the human institution for surveillance here.”

Humans were so primitive, squabbling over tiny stretches of land as if they had any control. Megatron just barely suppressed his nausea at the thought of human proximity to his offspring.

 

The airdrop went smoothly, at least in the beginning. It took the humans a while to attach their cables to each mech due to the different plate placement and sizes among them. There was also the well-deserved caution around Megatron. Even the experienced ones froze when Megatron shifted too suddenly for their comfort, but Optimus’ presence seemed to assure them. To their credit, they remained professional throughout, and nothing was said beyond brief comments to move an arm here or there. Megatron was first to go. Then came the trailer full of sparklings, followed by Barricade and the two tanks. 

For the final airdrop, Optimus followed below. He waded through the water, ignoring the wet squelch of sand under his pedes as he tracked the helicopters beat through the air with their cargo. Necessity required them to be divided across carriers. Megatron, the trailer, and Optimus on one, Barricade and the two tanks on another. Soundwave would fly with them, while Starscream – 

“I will  _ not _ be confined to your primitive ships!”

Optimus sighed as the testy flier immediately protested against the arrangements. The humans deemed two Decepticon fliers too risky, and that one had to be grounded and cuffed to the carrier. Starscream, obviously, found great umbrage with this state of affairs.

_ ::Megatron?:: _

 

_ ::I’ll handle it.:: _

Megatron didn’t need to transform for his voice to carry menace, nor did he need a facial expression for his soldiers to snap to attention.

“Starscream, you simpering sycophant. Ground yourself immediately or it will be  _ permanent _ .”

It might seem ridiculous to a human, the way the dilapidated truck had the flier shudder, ducking his helm down into obedience, even if it did come with some muttered curse of Megatron’s person under Starscream’s lacking breath. There was no dignified way for an F17 to roll around gracefully, and Starscream’s huffy journey into the carrier was met by mirthful chuckles from the two tanks, who did not think of disobeying the orders given so expressly.

“If he so much as moves you can crush him for scrap metal.” Megatron snarled in the humans’ direction.

 

“Noted,” Lennox muttered before he was back to barking orders at his men. Optimus watched them go about getting the carriers ready to move before turning to Megatron. He was certain most of the Decepticons would be quiet with Soundwave overhead to watch them. Starscream’s angry hissing had been swiftly silenced by Megatron’s casual threat.

“All dark,” one of the humans announced. On cue, the carriers’ lights were snuffed out one by one. Optimus obligingly shut off his headlights as well, and simply listened to the quiet night and the waves churning under them, before turning to Megatron. He hadn’t been restrained like the warlord. The restraints themselves weren’t all that much. He had been covered with a tarp all over, same as Optimus, to conceal them from any watching satellites. Megatron, however, also had immobilizers around his wheels to keep him in place, and had been neatly pinioned down into one place with magnets. If he really wanted, Optimus had no doubt he could rip his way out. He wouldn’t, however.

Hopefully.

_ ::The sparklings are safe.::  _ Thanks to Optimus’ insistence, the trailer full of sparklings was above deck, magnetized into place. And because he couldn’t reach out physically, he touched him over their bond instead.

_ ::We are safe.:: _

 

_ ::That’s not so easy to believe, in human custody.:: _

Megatron was more than a little tense. The darkness and the noises of the carrier were of no comfort to him. If anything, he preferred the open plains, or the desert, or the sky. Humans were a repulsive race of scavengers, and they had crept around all over him, inside of him, taking pieces from his frame, trying to revolutionise their world by scrounging from his very body.

The former warlord was restrained, yes, but one wrong move, one iota of threat against his fragile ones, and he’d be tearing through this carrier with the last of his spark.

_ ::They do not trust you. Even less so now. How long before they demand to take us apart?:: _

 

_ ::We will negotiate with them. War hasn’t gotten us anywhere. Perhaps some peace, and diplomacy, will get us farther. Have some faith.::  _ The fear and restrained anger that permeated Megatron worried Optimus and with a soft squeak of rubber on asphalt, he edged closer to the mech. Their fields touched, knitted together.

_ ::You said you would trust my judgment.::  _ He pushed down on Megatron’s paranoia with the weight of his patience, trying to urge some of it into him.  _ ::Panic will do nothing here.:: _

 

_ ::I watched them pull me apart. Open me up. Forgive me if I seem a little apprehensive to call your pets trustworthy.:: _

No matter how sincere Optimus felt about his faith in humanity, Megatron would not forget. Nor would he dispense the memories of feeling tiny sparks, brought into existence in his proximity, and extinguished moments later. Not sparklings, but minicons, subject of human experimentation, born of human technology, which came from him. 

The former warlord heaved a sigh that had his pistons creak.

_ ::The only thing I have faith in is you.:: _

 

_ ::Then keep it.::  _ Optimus wouldn’t let any of them be in danger. He’d promised to protect them all, after all. And yes,  _ all _ included Megatron and his Decepticons. They were, in the end, Cybertronians. All members of a dying race who only wanted to see their home again. He had faith that  _ this _ sole desire would be enough to unite them, even where philosophies and values threatened to do the opposite.

_ ::We are halves of one whole. Trust me.:: _ To speak over the bond again was another piece of home Optimus thought he’d never have back. He relished in it, even as Megatron’s darker emotions spilled over to him.

 

Megatron took the notion and let it comfort him. He couldn’t move much, but he could offer his tragedy of a field to nestle against Optimus and for their tires to bump, gently, together. 

He’d never felt more at peace in a millennia. Not even death had offered him such reprieve. Perhaps it was unfair, that Megatron could so easily restore his own trust in Optimus when the Prime struggled with such a notion towards his former Lord Protector, but Megatron had always been selfish, taking what was offered and searching for more.

_ ::I long to be what I used to.:: _

His friend. His brother. His lover. Was all of that lost to the ashes of war?

 

_ ::All in due time.::  _ Being allies could be worked out, if a little uneasily for some time. Maybe even friends, if things continued the way they did. But to have back what they had during their halcyon days… that was a tall order. Was it even possible to have that perfect and absolute trust after everything?

Optimus wanted to touch Megatron again, without violence tainting it. Even the simple act of bumping their plates against each other had been lost for so long… and now the thought of trying to step back into their respective roles made him uncomfortable. Megatron’s loss had forced Optimus into a whole new role, one he never wanted. A Prime’s role was to nurture and protect –  but now he killed as well as the best of them. Optimus’ shield had been in his unbreakable span of emotional distance between himself and every other mech he’d served besides –  what even was intimacy, anymore?

So he would be honest.

_ ::I don’t think I love you anymore.:  _ Too much had happened. Too much had been broken. Four million years and a dead planet was the price of Optimus’ shattered faith.

 

It shouldn’t have surprised him, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Megatron stood still, physically bound and controlled, even as his spark bled dry. Of course this was bound to happen, given as to how the war had started and dragged on. A trailer full of sparklings made no difference, nor did Megatron’s belated liberation. He’d lost all he had before the war, and he was lucky if he made it through with his life intact.

_ ::I see.:: _

He didn’t see. He didn’t want to. Megatron’s mind, ailed as it was, screamed in outrage, in hurt. It hadn’t been his fault. Not entirely. The war, the slaughter, their break. He’d been a passenger, trapped in his own mind by a malevolent darkness. It didn’t mean that everything he used to be just died away, withered in the ruins. 

It didn’t mean that Megatron had stopped loving Optimus. But the Prime had no more use for that, and any potential future in front of them didn’t either.

_ ::If I can earn back your trust, I shall be content.:: _

Megatron didn’t close the bond, but he did cap the direct link of his emotions to his Prime. There was no need to burden Optimus with the starved echoes of their love. Not now, not ever again.

 

_ ::That doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you.::  _ He rebelled against the blockage. Even if he couldn’t reciprocate, he still craved the knowledge that he, at least, was still loved. He clawed at Megatron through the bond, silently demanding he not quell the link. Optimus’ emotional state of affairs was more complex than merely falling  _ out _ of love. If it had been so simple, then it would’ve been solved by simply finding a way to reignite the lost spark.

His problem had more facets than that. Loneliness, compounded by trauma, and all of it capped by a rigid stoicism forced Optimus into a state where he was, simply put,  _ uncomfortable _ at the notion of intimacy that stretched further than camaraderie. Uncomfortable, really, didn’t even begin to cover it.

_ ::You shouldn’t be.::  _ One of Megatron’s greatest strengths had been his boundless ambition. It was part of his endless charisma, part of what made him so overwhelmingly magnetic even when he was bound by the Fallen. Some called it selfishness –  Optimus, when he was younger and much, much more foolish, had seen it as something beautiful and to strive for. To see Megatron so muted felt intensely, strikingly  _ wrong _ .

 

Megatron eased off, left the bond as it should be, even if it felt like filling water into a bucket with holes. Or, in a less jovially put manner, pointless. His emotions towards his bonded had not changed, simply because he hadn’t been allowed to contemplate them for so long. It was wistful, the tender little flame that continued to burn. It had flickered, it had even almost suffocated under the Fallen, but it persevered. And even if Optimus did not love him anymore, he in turn was still madly loved. Megatron didn’t have strength for resilience, and the guilt crushing him down into this pathetic morsel was not to be lightened by any potential future. He had doomed them all. He was the reason for the billions dead. He was the one who had let the Fallen into his helm, because he was too weak on his own. 

_ ::It was ambition that drove me so blindly into Megatronus’ grasp. I will seek no more of it.:: _

Curtailed in his pride, his conviction, his every instinct to lead and guide and protect, Megatron was not worthy of his former title, and it was difficult for him to envision a returned sense of self-worth. Two halves of a whole indeed, one without the ability to love, the other who did not deserve it.

 

_ ::Ambition within reason is a positive thing.::  _ Once again, Optimus reached out to Megatron to envelop him as best he could in the limitations of their bond.  _ ::I loved you once. Is it so impossible to imagine a second occurrence?:: _

A little, yes. But if a Prime could be turned to murder, then he could be turned back again. Optimus wanted to believe in that. His particular brand of stubbornness had endured the war. It could endure this.

_ ::Don’t imagine that I stopped willingly. Or happily.:: _

 

That didn’t help. Megatron loved his Prime, his everything, beyond what most could imagine. To think that his own actions, be they guided by a more sinister hand or not, had driven his beloved so far, had turned Optimus so cold...

It was another burden to bear. Megatron was pretty sure any mech would collapse, eventually from such a load, but he did have a future to consider, sparklings to feed. He couldn’t give out just yet.

_ ::...I am tired. As much as I relish being near you without the instinct to kill you, I must recharge.:: _

An easy escape, but a solidly obvious motion to display his willingness to trust Optimus to watch over his defenseless, crippled frame. 

 

The evasion was obvious, but Optimus let it slide. He vented, plating flexing slightly, before settling down on his wheels.  _ ::I will keep watch.:: _

One offer of trust, to another. It would be enough. It had to.

 


	5. Vagrant

The humans thought it prudent to keep all Decepticons in a place far, far away from any cities, and definitely out of sight. Whatever had been housed in this cavernous space carved into the side of a mountain, Megatron didn’t know. He also didn’t care. Hangars dotted the expansive tarmac, and beyond the ridiculously high, spiked fences, wasteland stretched itself as far as the eye could see.

Or at least, that was the view when Megatron had arrived here, in the dead of night, surrounded by human soldiers as he hauled his crippled frame into the facility. Only to be promptly locked in place with surprisingly sturdy cuffs. Not strong enough to hold him at full strength, but sufficient to deal with him right now.

He didn’t fight them, though there was some snarling whenever someone approached him. He was covered in a tarp again, though they had the good manner to leave his cab uncovered.

Recharge was out of the question now, and he’d gotten a little on the ride here, with Optimus vigilantly at his side. From his position in the mountainside hangar, Megatron could see a sort of framework with seats and screens at Optimus’ height. Probably the communication hub then. 

His fellow Decepticons were less thrilled about being directed, but now, they were also surrounded by trigger happy Autobots who had no qualms in pointing several loaded cannons in Megatron’s direction as soon as they stepped into the hangar.

Though before Ironhide could take another step, he was face to chestplate with a khaki tankformer, glowering viciously in his direction and a gatling gun pressed to his abdominal plating.

“Go ahead. Make a move. Make my  _ day _ .”

“Sherma. Stand down. We’re not here to fight them.” Megatron sighed, dust flaring from his vents.

 

Optimus pointedly stepped between their cannons, sending a quelling glance at every Autobot who had their weapons up and aimed. Most of them withered under his harsh look, but Ironhide persisted stubbornly.

“He deserves to die,” was his only explanation when Optimus stared down at him, optics narrowed.

“It is not your decision to make.” Once upon a time, a Prime would have nothing to say in this. Now, however, he was the Prime forged by war, and he was having  _ none of it _ . “Put your cannons down. Sheathe your swords.  _ Disarm _ , or must  _ I _ step in?”

Not even the most belligerent Autobot could keep up their bravado for long. Cannons powered down and swords disappeared into their sheaths as Optimus’ scowl inched lower. It was only when the last weapon disappeared from view, however, that he chose to relax marginally.

“Ironhide. Bumblebee. To me. The rest of you, disperse until I call for a formal conference.”

With a low, resentful mutter, the crowd began to trickle away. They only moved a short distance away, however, before stopping to stare balefully. Optimus ignored them as he looked down at his two officers.

“The charge for treason is execution,” Ironhide told him stiffly. His gun arm twitched, aching to take aim and fire.

“Circumstances change,” Optimus insisted. “I will explain. But for now, simply do as I say.”

Ironhide looked to argue again, until Bumblebee nudged him. He quieted, but still looked rebellious.

“The Decepticons will be housed separately from Autobots. Each Decepticons will be housed in a single cell with all basic amenities. They will all have tracking chips installed, and their weapons indefinitely disabled. Fliers will have their wings cuffed and grounders will have their wheels locked. Transformations are strictly allowed only under surveillance by an officer. The humans won’t bother you as long as you don’t bother them –  so there should be no threats under any circumstances.”

Optimus said this to his soldiers as much as he did to Megatron. Glancing between them both, he continued, “Am I understood?”

 

It was hardly any different than what Megatron expected. Still, being completely locked down felt instinctively wrong. Optimus better prove himself receptive to their offspring’s needs, or Megatron was going to find the last of his strength reserves to break out of this new prison. 

Sherma looked to his leader, appalled. This was no peace, this was just them becoming prisoners. But Megatron didn’t offer any of his famous resistance and belligerence. He simply deferred to the Prime’s words, acknowledging that Optimus’ orders were his as well through their comms. 

The tankformer transformed and ground dirt from his treads as he sought the side of his companion once more. This was definitely the saddest ending to the glorious Decepticon Cause he could have imagined.

“My trailer,” Megatron spoke up, “I demand it stays with me.”

 

“The sparklings can move around at will in a designated area in the base –  for their safety. They have the option of coming to you if they want.”  _ ::Or to me.:: _

The restrictions that’d been placed were draconic in their rigidity, but it was necessary. Anything else, and Optimus could have open rebellion on his servos from the humans and his ‘bots alike. All he needed was a few months of quiet compliance, however, and he could work on beginning to loosen restrictions and find a way to heal the rift between the two factions once and for all.

_ ::How this works out now could affect the future of our stay on Earth. I need the Decepticons to obey perfectly, or all the progress we’ve made since the last attack could be jeopardized.:: _

 

_ ::I’ll keep them under control.:: _

Megatron’s communications to his Decepticons were silent, but their reactions were not. Barricade whined, Soundwave acknowledged with the most haughty blast of static one could expect and Starscream? Oh, he was profoundly unhappy. Grounding a seeker was the same as cutting a mech’s frame away from his spark, essentially.

But he still made no motion to run or flee or even dislodge his shackles. Though he seethed, silently, and vowed for Megatron not to retain his leadership for that much longer. The mech was just paving the way for Starscream to win over the small handful of Decepticons left on Earth.

_ ::Keep them safe. Keep them fed.:: _

Megatron didn’t flinch as the clamps were attached to his tires, though he would have liked to at least stretch out his rootform before being confined. When the humans extracted his fusion cannon from the flatbed of his altmode, however, he did resist.

“That is _ attached _ to me.”

 

“Can we power it down?” Optimus asked, somewhat dubious. The fusion cannon was one of Megatron’s most iconic weapons. Allowing him to keep it was a sign of his continued authority… but was that really a bad thing? After all, Megatron’s authority was necessary to keep the last dregs of the Decepticons in line.

“Keep it. We have to attach an energy siphon though.” 

The poor reactions of the Decepticons was noted, especially that of Starscream’s. The final, real issue was, however, not just the imprisonment of the the Decepticons. It was  _ rationing _ .

“Our energon supply is low, but enough to keep us going. With the addition of your troops and the sparklings, matters may be leaner.”

_ ::Has Shockwave ever made any progress with his synth-en?:: _

 

_ ::I’ll ask him when he gets here. You need to keep me powered and Soundwave. Everyone else is...potentially safer if they are in stasis.:: _

It was purely tactical advice. Megatron felt little to no remorse when it came to making such, even without the Fallen to guide him. Survival was the goal, and rationing of small energon supplies would be a lot easier if everyone wasn’t guzzling fuel daily. Stasis was not ideal, but it would reduce their needs by a significant amount. Megatron himself was too damaged for it. His systems would never recover. Soundwave was too important, and he had symbiotes that needed his active input. 

 

_ ::Would they consent to that?::  _ Optimus couldn’t imagine a Decepticon willingly powering down at the servos of the Autobots, no matter how innocent their intentions were. There was too much bad blood for that sort of unthinking trust. Getting them this far had been a challenge all on its own –  how far would that obedience  _ really _ extend? All it took was one trigger-happy Decepticon… and the Autobots in the base had no qualms about dogpiling that individual. And from there, all the Decepticons may as well be one and the same.

_ ::I don’t want to put you in unnecessary danger.:: _

The sparklings needed Megatron as much –  or perhaps more –  as they needed Optimus. 

_ ::Wheeljack and the humans were discussing ways to possibly use solar energy as an energon substitute.:: _

 

Megatron snorted dismissively at that. There was certainly a way to use solar energy as a means to make energon, but as a substitute? Did Optimus intend to have them all charge from solar cells, lazy and immobile as reptiles?

_ ::It may not matter what they want. If it comes down to making a decision on who to feed, you do everything to keep the sparklings alive. Do you understand? I do not care what happens to me. My Decepticons followed me willingly, for the most part, but I am still the one who should be blamed. But the sparklings are innocent.:: _

If only he could believe that Optimus was capable of considering their offspring before the safety of his human pets, he might be at a little more ease.

 

_ ::There will be  _ **_no_ ** _ need to make a choice. You, the sparklings, and everyone else will survive.:: _ Optimus tired of this pessimism. There was a future to look forwards to, now, one without the shadow of war corrupting every step. With Megatron at his side, he could accomplish  _ anything. _

As the Decepticons stepped forward to be escorted towards their cells, Optimus personally guided his nemesis. The trailer came after them and the sparklings inside chirped as they began to wake, excited by the new environment they could sense. Megatron’s cell was the one farthest from the entrance and, as it happened, the closest to Autobot quarters.

Specifically Optimus’.

Planned?

_ Perhaps _ .

They stopped once they reached it. Here, they were away from the prying optics of the other ‘bots. The humans could still see them, but that wasn’t as much of  worry. The cell was really a nuclear bunker, converted and reinforced. It had no windows and was just about large enough for Megatron to stand up fully in, stretch out, and pace a little if he was economical. Optimus unlocked the door, inviting him to step in.

_ ::Comm links between us aren’t blocked. If you need…:: _

Optimus left it hanging there. 

 

It was a prison. With no sky, no windows, and absolutely barren of any notion other than defeat. Something in Megatron twinged as he stepped inside. Transforming had come with parts falling off of him and the rust of his frame coming to the light of day. It wasn’t pretty. 

_ ::Will they be in sight of me?:: _

Of course he meant his offspring, the primary concern as he settled his broken frame into a corner, draped against a wall heavily. This was definitely not the worst place he’d ever stayed, but it had finality to it. And even though Optimus had once upon a time been a merciful, kind mech, he was war-hardened as anyone now. He wasn’t honour-bound to make his former nemesis ‘cozy’.

 

He stepped inside the cell, following after Megatron, confident that here and now, no one could fully see them. It had been one of the first things they’d rewired. The humans didn’t need to watch them anymore than they already did. 

“They will,” he said, advancing a fraction closer to where Megatron rested.

This move was risky. Not  _ dangerous _ , per se, not in the same way the barrel of a live cannon was dangerous, or the way a feral mech was dangerous. This was dangerous in an entirely new manner, and the secret, violent part of Optimus thrilled at the risk he was undertaking.

Crouching low, so that he was at Megatron’s level, Optimus reached out to run his knuckles across the damaged, jagged edges of his derma. It scraped along and flakes of dried energon came along with the disturbance. “I really did mean it when I said I missed you,” he said, voice pitched low so no one could hear.

His sensors caught no sound near them. For now, they were safe. He felt… confused. A little hungry. But most of all, he felt  _ lonely _ , and the return of Megatron at his side and in his mind reopened a wound Optimus had long thought anger had cauterized. The bursts of craving to be close to him, to touch him, and to reaffirm his loyalty spiked at inopportune moments. Back at the hovel. On the carrier. And now, here, in Megatron’s featureless cell.

“We had something good.”

 

Was Optimus really going to continue this searing punishment? Megatron might have preferred a battle to the death to this emotional torment. Yes, they had something good. Great, even. When they ruled, side by side, they had done Cybertron justice, and equality and peace. Together, they could accomplish anything and everything. 

To know it and lose it was worse than never having it at all. 

Optimus being so close was distracting. As was the touch, so familiar and yet so strange. He was tense, as much as his frame could muster, simply because his reaction to such a touch was no longer to relax, but to defend and in turn, attack.

That, he fought back down, bitterly.

“We had something great.”

Emphasis on _ had _ .

 

The ugly tension between them was back, but Optimus forced himself to relax. He picked up Megatron’s servo, letting it rest on his. “Neither of us wished to end it.”

The three claw-like digits in his palm felt strangely, unnaturally delicate. Optimus felt that if he squeezed too hard, they’d snap like brittle wafers in his grip. They probably would, really. His expression was somewhat strained, even when he tried to wrestle it into control. His thumb grazed over the back of servo, awkwardly, strangely intimate.

“Do you…” he drifted into silence.

Optimus chose to stare at a point just over Megatron’s shoulder, where naked sparks occasionally flashed out when his weight shifted enough to grind gears.

“We both want peace.”

His digits skittered over Megatron’s damaged ones again, filling the void of conversation with his uncommon fidgeting. He tested their length, curled and uncurled them, all the while pondering what he meant to say against what he  _ wanted _ to say, and found himself frustrated by his inability to voice it.

“Autobot and Decepticon, united.”

He still skirted along the edge of security, rather than throw himself into the abyss. Optimus had thought he had it all managed and compartmentalized. Each conversation and interaction, combed over and nitpicked to pinpoint just  _ why _ and  _ when _ Megatron turned on him. Everything dug up and turned over like little stones and he the jeweller searching for flaws in the make. Time and distance lent him the ability to overthink and overanalyze, until Optimus finally deemed it all a lost cause.

What was done was done. Searching for a deeper meaning for everything, clearly, had been a mistake that only resulted in more sparkache for him. Now, it seemed that he hadn’t buried it as cleanly as he’d thought.

“Can’t we… do it?” What kind of question was  _ that _ ?

Optimus’ jaw tightened at his own ineptitude.

“I don’t want us to drift apart.” But that was  _ exactly _ what they have been doing for the past millennia!

It was infuriating to realize how stupid he sounded right now. Just how  _ bad _ had he really become at being emotionally honest with  _ anyone _ ?

“I want you back.” But what did he have, if not Megatron, back in his rightful mind and state? What more did he  _ want _ ? Optimus  _ himself _ had been the one to drop the love bomb in the first place - what right did he have to dig up those old scars? It was his one selfish deed. To want Megatron back, but not to give him what he deserved in return.

Tense, he let go of Megatron. “I… I apologize. I’m being foolish.”

 

“No,” Megatron had listened, with an aching spark and a broken frame, fending off battle protocols in favour of following Optimus’ difficult journey through self-expression. He was always the more eloquent of the two, and prone to say exactly what he was thinking, rather than awkwardly avoid the issue.

Some parts of his beloved Prime had not changed, and that almost brought him to smile. His derma was strained though, so any expression was probably ruined by his drooping, damaged left optic. His functional, crimson eye swept over the Prime with more alert intention than in millennia.

“You’re navigating poorly, doing as usual, a bad job of using your words effectively. I don’t know what to tell you, Optimus. You and I...we both know we won’t return to how we used to be. You said it yourself; you don’t love me anymore. My spark is yours, my freedom, my future, and what remains of what I can clearly label as affection. And that won’t change. But you and I, we’re different mecha now. You can have me back. But can you in turn, come back to me? I would not task you with such a challenge...and I know the future, whatever happens, is your....our priority.”

Optimus really had to stop bouncing Megatron’s frazzled, damaged processor back and forth with his conflicting desires. Pushing Megatron away whilst pulling him close would break him in half.

“I am yours. Do not doubt it.”

 

“It is difficult.”

He wanted to close the distance between them and seal the finality of his words properly, but couldn’t it find it in himself to do so. Optimus had always needed a solid foundation and absolute certainty in himself to move forward. It gave him  great stability, of course, but it also gave him a tendency to waffle and put off certain decisions.

His servos brushed imaginary dust off Megatron’s shoulders before Optimus slowly rose again. 

“I… I need to think on this. The trailer will be in your line of sight. I must go.”

It wasn’t the worst farewell he could’ve given, but it was close. Holding his field tight, he fled.

 

Optimus’ abrupt departure left Megatron reeling, and also exhausted. The tension finally ebbed out of his frame and he groaned, low, engine turning over for a slower tact. Self-repair was difficult on such limited fuel, but he could allow himself to relax marginally. He couldn’t recharge just yet, although the trailer did appear in his line of sight, after some time. The back was open, and a few sparklings dared to explore. Or rather, to tumble and stumble over to his cell. They whined when their way was barred, making do with the claw he extended out to them. 

Optimus always stewed on decisions and information. That, at least, had not changed. He was still the same mech who used his processor too much for the simplest of things. Nothing could prompt the Prime into a sour, extended sulk better than personal matters.

Megatron couldn’t go after him, even if he wanted to. He kept comm silence, to give the Prime the space he so clearly needed, instead occupying himself with his offspring. Their offspring.

They’d be safe. Optimus never condemned the innocent. Wasn’t that the whole reason he fought so hard to save the unworthy organic vermin of this world? 

Recharge claimed him unwillingly, optic dim and functions reduced to a minimum. Only his proximity sensors were running on full, in case anyone approached the little collection of sparklings cuddled into a cluster against the bars and his claws reaching through.


	6. Heathens

It was several hours after nightfall that Optimus finally made a decision. It took him a while, admittedly, much of which he spent brooding alone in his quarters. A few appearances were made to help order the Autobots around and decide on the rations, but he kept to himself for the most part. He needed space to think and weigh his options, and he would have none of that with his ‘bots crowding around him, chattering over one another for his attention.

Sensing his mood, the humans stayed away as well.

This all gave Optimus the time to sit down and properly meditate. Meditation, in the spiritual sense, wasn’t something he engaged in all that often. A lot of it was wishy-washy religious puffery invented by previous Primes. Stripped down to reality, it was really just sitting and having a good think.

So.

Megatron. The Fallen. The sparklings. Careful to avoid his own subjective angers, Optimus laid down the facts as concisely as he could.

Megatron and he were Prime and Lord Protector. During the Shevelli war, Megatron made an ill-advised decision that ended up with him being controlled. This lead to the Great War. Optimus killed the Fallen, and Megatron was free and willing to surrender.

They had sparklings. Megatrons somehow managed to keep a small cluster alive, and fed them with cannibalized energon.

Megatron no longer tried to attack him. He was reasonable. Compliant. Placid.

He still loved Optimus.

Okay. Facts.

Now, what was he supposed to  _ do _ with these facts?

_ Primus preserve me. _

At 4am, where everyone on base was fast asleep, Optimus got up and quietly moved to where Megatron was kept. He snagged his full cube with him as he went.

He would do what he wanted. And that would have to be enough.

_ ::Megatron. I’m coming over.:: _

 

Megatron had been fully immersed in his recharge cycle and the message woke him abruptly. How very much like Optimus to have pondered deep into the night and suddenly befalling his Protector with his presence. He could recall similar incidents, back home on Cybertron, when the Prime would finally come to berth only to rouse Megatron for a discussion.

The other implication of his sudden visit was dismissed immediately.

Carefully, without disturbing the sparklings, he shifted to face the door, optics glowing in the darkness.

_ ::I'm awake. Watch your step.:: _

 

_ ::I know where they are.:: _

Gingerly, Optimus moved past the sparklings and unlocked the cell long enough to slip inside. A quick check on his scanners showed nothing. On soft pedes, he ghosted closer to Megatron.

_ ::Here,:: _ he held out the cube in offering.  _ ::You need it more than I do.::  _ Self-repair could do only so much, but every drop of energon would help. Optimus slid down to his level again, close enough that their knees brushed.

 

Megatron was a proud creature, but necessity made beggars even out of kings. And his necessity was enormous at the moment, which was why he accepted the cube without a word, bringing it to his lips and swallowing down half of it immediately. His tanks, so empty previously splashed with the fresh fuel and his engine purred as soon as the energon lent new life to it.

_ ::Remember what we used to fuel on, before all of this?:: _

Wistful memories of triple-distilled, highly refined energon hit his processor, a star-spangled sky spanning over the lights of Iacon as he and Optimus indulged in luxury for at least one night a vorn.

 

_ ::War lost us many luxuries.::  _ Optimus watched him drink without anything further said, until the cube was entirely drained. When it was, he tugged it away.

_ ::There is more allotted for the sparklings. I want you to drink your full share.::  _ Knowing Megatron, he’d try to save over half his cube for the sparklings instead. It was his nature.

Leaning closer, Optimus let his helm rest on Megatron’s shoulder.  _ ::I remember many things before all this. You feature in most of them.:: _

 

_ ::We always were inseparable, even before we were bonded.:: _

Megatron graciously allowed Optimus close. It wasn’t a natural feat, everything in him was still programmed to fight the Prime whenever he was close. But this...this was worth controlling himself. The pleasant burn of actual energon in his tanks was a lovely distraction too.

Why had Optimus returned now? What had finally propelled him across the line of dealing with his personal inhibitions? Megatron wouldn’t ask. It wasn’t just Optimus who had missed their intimacy, and this was but a tiny patch on the yawning abyss of loneliness spanning Megatron’s mind.

_ ::You’re not very close with your subordinates, are you? I’ve been watching. You give them orders, and dismiss them. They’re communal with each other, but you sequester yourself away.:: _

 

_ ::It is the role of command. We never touched our subordinates before the war either.::  _ Mostly because they were busy touching each other. But even so, it was tradition. Not many Primes or Lord Protectors fraternized with those under their direct command. It’d happened, but only rarely.

He shifted closer. It was always slowly. Always carefully, as if to make sure he didn’t step over any boundaries. At first, he only touched Megatron’s wrists. Then, growing bolder, he supported his elbows and their fields knitted closer, until they could only feel each other.

_ ::My greatest sorrow was being forced away from you.::  _ Megatron had been many things for him. A brother. A friend. Confidante and support, lover and mentor and student, all wrapped into one, inimitable package. Their bond had only affirmed what was already there –  two sparks that might as well have been twins.

He pushed a little closer, but still kept himself a little back. Megatron wasn’t the only fighting warborn impulses.

_ ::I...dreamed of you.:: _

 

_ ::Something tells me it didn’t include snuffing my spark in glorious victory.::  _

Megatron was careful with his words, and careful about trusting Optimus’ affection. He was starved for it, craved it like nothing else in the universe, but he couldn’t allow himself to sink into it. He did, however, gently rest his mangled claws on Optimus’ arm. Carefully, so, so carefully. No sudden movements as they both tread on eggshells at the moment. When had the waters of intimacy become so choppy and difficult? Megatron couldn’t remember the last time they’d touched. It was gone, burned from his mind by a darker touch and poisonous dreams.

The field, he could allow. His own bloated until it could envelop Optimus, as it had done when they were still side by side. He’d always found comfort in his Prime’s presence, and the former Protector bowed his helm a little closer. He was still and always had been larger than his Prime, and aware of their difference. Well. He’d also been made aware of the differences by Sentinel’s relentless chastising of his ‘brutish’ frame and malformed armaments. 

_ ::The Fallen did not give me ample time to remember you, or our times together. I think that was very much to the purpose of keeping me from attempting any rebellion.:: _

Megatronus had poisoned every sweet word, had poured malice into every confession and trusted exchange.

 

_ ::Then perhaps I can remind you.::  _ His battle mask whisked back, exposing his face fully. Optimus didn’t smile often as of late, but here and now, there was a hesitant upward curve to his mouth. Leaning in, his helm touched Megatron’s gently. Much of his face and helm had been damaged thanks to Optimus turning his own cannon on him, but he wasn’t put off by the way the damage affected him. This was Megatron, and that was enough for Optimus any day.

He tried to keep his touch light, mindful of Megatron’s injuries, as he kissed him. It was nothing compared to the passionate tumbles they had in their youth. Really, their younger selves would’ve laughed at them now, being so timid with affection like newly upgraded sparklings discovering one another for the first time.

It was all Optimus could take, however, before self-doubt plagued him again. Was this really what he should being doing after what Megatron did –  willingly or not? Was this what he should be doing to someone defeated, crippled, and incapable of resisting whatever Optimus wished? He drew back, and his sour, frustrated mental servo-wringing was back in full swing.

_ ::I don’t want to overtax your frame.::  _

That was  _ not _ what he should’ve said. It should’ve been anything  _ else _ but a vague hope to continue this into… whatever.

 

Optimus was taking Megatron’s spark for a ride that the warlord had not agreed to, and yet did not find himself objecting to. The affection to his faceplate, so dearly missed, so dearly wanted, and yet perplexing in light of Optimus’ declaration. If he didn’t love Megatron, he surely had a strange way of showing it. A sigh heaved through the damaged frame, and it turned into a growl when the Prime pulled away with his pathetic excuse.

_ ::My frame has endured worse than you gently kissing it, believe me.:: _

It was a nice change from Optimus punching, shooting or slicing through it, certainly. Megatron shifted more to face Optimus, single functional optic searching to hold his gaze, the faintest flicker of hunger and life in there.

_ ::And anything else you might be thinking.:: _

Megatron’s spark, however, was not ready to endure this constant mix of rejection and desire. He didn’t think it would be easy to be near Optimus, but the Prime was blossoming into a deeply-rooted problem. And Megatron had no choice about his company. He’d be confronted by the constant push and pull of his former lover, whom he, personally, still loved painfully. 

 

_ ::I shouldn’t.::  _ And now was the moment of truth.

Optimus looked down for this part.  _ ::I… did think I did not love you anymore. That I cast you out of my spark, bond be damned. But now you come back to me, sane and trustworthy, and now I do not know  _ **_what_ ** _ to think. I spent the last four million years reminding myself I did not love you. And now… old habits are hard to break.:: _

He vented, mostly out of frustration.

_ ::I hated you. I missed you. I mourned and dreamed and wished that you would come back, but I accepted what I thought reality was. I had to make a choice, Megatron. And I chose what was right over what I wanted.:: _

It was an ugly admittance, but it was a necessary one.

_ ::I never looked at anyone else. Do you understand how lonely an existence that is, to think that your own bondmate rejected you? And now you’re back and…:: _ Optimus’ face screwed into distaste.  _ ::...Never mind. I should not have done this.:: _

He got up, moving to walk out. 

 

“Wait.”

Megatron spoke, pinged for their bond and transmitted it all in one, his claw reaching out for the Prime without touching his frame. With wheezing pistons and squeaking joints, the former warlord heaved himself up on his pedes. He had to duck his helm slightly to stand at his full height in his cell. 

_ ::I never rejected you. I know it must have felt that way...and I cannot simply apologize for it. That does it no justice. But believe me, Optimus, I know what rejection feels like. Even before all of this. You remember how Sentinel treated me. You remember how much I hated him for it. You remember, because you were there and you cared for me and listened.:: _

A silvery claw brushed over Optimus’ smokestacks. Not a vulnerable or sensitive part of Optimus, which was precisely why it was much safer to touch than his neckcables, or helm.

_ ::I can’t undo any of what caused you to learn to hate me. I cannot just hide behind that it wasn’t me. But don’t run away from this, Optimus. Don’t turn your back on me. I never meant for any of this to happen, or for anything to come between us. It did. I failed you. You can be angry. You can hate me. But you must decide what you want. I am yours. You are no longer mine. We cannot have back what we lost, we can only build something new. If you so desire.  It won’t be the same, but I still love you, and no matter what you do, that will not change.:: _

 

_ ::You would be surprised at the impermanence of many things.::  _ It came out more bitter than he intended, and Optimus stepped back into Megatron’s embrace in silent apology. His field stretched out around them, warm.

Still… it was an effort. And Optimus would reach back. He cradled his helm and, reflecting only a little bitterly that their height difference wasn’t nearly so drastic anymore, kissed him again. This time, it was less restrained. He wanted Megatron to feel… what?

Optimus was going to need more time to think on this again. But for now, at least, he was tired of moping around because of Megatron.

Servos ran down the sides of his frame.  _ ::I want to touch you.:: _

 

_ ::I’m not stopping you.:: _

Not now, not when Optimus inevitably admitted that things between them were never over. Not when one of them died, not when neither knew the other anymore. It was impossible to separate their beings and their sparks.

Even if Megatron would have to be as patient as a mountain when it came to Optimus’ crippled ability to deal with emotions.

The kiss had been as refreshing as the cube of energon, especially since it was so much more sincere and familiar in this position. Megatron had eagerly opened up, traced his glossa carefully against Optimus’ offered lips.

 

Impatient as always. Optimus knew the push of his frame against his as intimately as he knew the back of his servo –  it satisfied him, in some manner, to be the one pushing for new boundaries where Optimus would have been content to plod on steadily. So with this in mind, he allowed the new development to continue as it would, opening up under Megatron’s eager advance.

As damaged and rusted as he was, Megatron still felt glorious under his servos. He was all bulk and power, strength and stability, and Optimus leaned forward into him to return his affection. He craved some manner of closure to his long-denied contact to others, and Megatron had always held his attention as the best of them.

_ ::Why is it that no matter what happens –  what you do to me –  I can still manage to find something in myself to forgive you?:: _

 

_ ::Because you are not a cruel mech at spark. War has forged necessary traits into you, but you yearn to return to peace and to digging in the dirt.:: _

Megatron’s engine hummed content, but he was far from it still. Optimus had offered merely a taste of everything the former warlord craved to have, and there was still no assurance that this would lead to anything more than a wistful night spent locked together.

But Megatron would indulge it, for all it was worth. Every tiny piece of Optimus he could squeeze out of this moment, he’d take. The Prime was different beneath his touch. Still beautiful, but even his frame was ragged, harder, with far more edge than the archeologist lover he’d had so long ago.

 

_ ::It’s not digging in the dirt.::  _ Optimus almost rolled his optics at Megatron.  _ ::I was discovering and preserving Cybertron’s history.:: _

Megatron,  _ honestly _ .

The sparklings under their pedes chirred softly, responding to the activity of their fields, but did not wake. With a murmur of plates, Optimus pushed Megatron back, against his usual corner. Considering his damaged state, it wasn’t all too hard.

_ ::Stay quiet for me, will you?::  _ Megatron wasn’t the only one who coveted this moment. As the seconds passed, Optimus’ touch grew more frantic, desperate to map out everything that had been denied him for so long. His sensors were alert, trying to catch out anyone who might come near while they were busy, and he grew hasty in his wariness. Hard digits scrabbled over his ventral plating until they encountered Megatron’s panel.

_ ::Will you?:: _

 

There was being eager and then there was Optimus Prime, desperately scrabbling at his panel. Megatron choked on his commentary, engine snarling as entirely ancient protocols kicked into life. Very well. If his former enemy was so insistent on rekindling their...relationship, who was he to deny him? Optimus was old enough to know this wasn’t a good idea. If anyone caught sight of the Prime, indulging in this sort of activity with Megatron, this entire ‘end of the war’ and ‘sheltering Decepticons’ would be called into question. Not to mention there were probably a few very important details that humans did not yet know about Cybertronian life.

_ ::My vocalizer is muted.:: _

It should suffice, although his frame’s squeaks and groans would be difficult to muffle. Megatron’s panel was warm, definitely interested in this situation, age-old emotions wafting to the foreground of his mind. Optimus needed him. Megatron could only oblige, and claim some part of it for himself along the way. He caused unrelenting desire in the Prime.  _ He _ , even in his damaged state,  _ was _ the epitome of pleasure and company and hunger in the Prime. Still, even after millennia of war. The panel parted, unchanged, untouched, since the day the Prime and Lord Protector no longer tumbled into their berth together.

 

It was surreal how easily they sank into the rhythm of their relationship. Yes, there was still the urges to suddenly attack or a flinch at a sudden move, but for the first time, desire eclipsed the wariness. Optimus kissed him again as his digits pushed past broken outer plating and skipped over his array. He was warm, and heating up, and Optimus shivered in response.

This was the height of folly, surely. There would be no going back from this. He couldn’t even justify it as Megatron having started it –  Optimus had been the one to come into his cell and Optimus had been the one to ask him to open his panels. 

Megatron had never been one to be treated excessively gently. Two digits slipped inside easily and Optimus had to restrain a bubble of hysteria. In the space of… what? Half a year? They’d gone from bitter enemies to whatever this was. That was mere moments for them, but here they were. The world worked in mysterious ways.

Hooking his digits in the way he knew Megatron liked, Optimus continued to push him back until, at last, Megatron’s back plates met the wall with a soft  _ tink _ . He didn’t trust Megatron to be able to support himself unaided, and so he braced against him as well, taking on his weight himself. Once upon a time, Optimus would’ve staggered under his bulk. Now, he barely winced.

_ ::Tell me if your wounds worsen.:: _

 

_ ::Don’t you dare stop.:: _

Even if he was bleeding out, Megatron wouldn’t want Optimus to stop. This was so familiar, so warm and something he was pretty sure he’d lost forever, only for Optimus to insist on it himself, coming to Megatron like a magnet, and forging ahead on this path as if there hadn’t been a hatred dividing them. Megatron wanted to cling to his bondmate, and he wanted to praise him for everything he’d become, and for remembering how exactly they liked doing this.

Instead though, he remained silent, vocalizer muted as the contact noises of the Prime’s servo pushing into him and his strong frame bracing against his crippled one were the only thing disturbing the night’s quiet. The sparklings recharged in content, the combined fields of their parentals soothing to them rather than disturbing.

Megatron shifted, slightly, parting thickly armored thighs and bowing his helm, processor module spinning madly in its cradle.

_ ::Just like we used to...:: _

 

Optimus had no reply for that, so instead he slipped in a third digit, knowing Megatron’s limits. Here, he did not change. The valve was warm and welcoming, and Optimus had to repress the rumble of his engine as he felt calipers ripple. His own panel parted and his spike pressed against Megatron’s thigh, but Optimus hesitated, again.

His helm rose, antennae angled back as he listened.

_ ::Don’t move.:: _

Somewhere, beyond the confines of the cell and the soft murmur of the sparklings, Optimus could barely make out the sounds of someone moving. It was not the heavy shuffle of a mech –  much lighter, tapping down on asphalt in rapid beats.

Human.

More listening and waiting, hoping for the distraction to leave, proved futile. Whoever this was, they were loitering around one of the cells. Inside Megatron, his digits flexed.

_ ::Wait.:: _

 

Wait? Megatron was not going to comment on the unbelievable impossibility of that request, simply because he had to restrain any noise trying to escape him and Prime was being extremely unhelpful by moving his fingers. The former warlord sighed, which became half a growl as his hips twitched.

_ ::Me? You’re the one moving. If you don’t want your pets to come gawk at us I suggest you lay off of my ceiling node this instant.:: _

Optimus knew how easily Megatron would dissolve into melted metal if he continued to harass the sensitive lines embedded behind the calipers, running all the way through his valve.

The tap tap of human feet came closer. Of course they’d have their own shifts of night-guards to patrol the area they kept their Decepticon prisoners in. Fortunately for one amorous Prime, this particular soldier had no interest to come close to the cell littered with balls of sleeping metal. Sparklings were still larger than humans, and could take one apart just as easily. 

A hiss escaped Megatron’s frame, some pressured tubing giving in under Optimus’ grasp.

The soldier jerked around, eyeing the cell and approaching it with extreme hesitation.

“Cap? I got noise from big ugly’s block. Do I investigate?” He severely hoped the answer would be no.

 

He obliged grudgingly. His digits inched back inside Megatron, slow and careful so as not to create anymore noise. They both flinched, however, when one of Megatron’s tubes popped and air escaped. Optimus reached inside, past seams, and pinched it shut but the damage was done.

The soft tapping grew closer to where they were and Optimus, in a fit of inspiration, spun them around. Megatron was bigger and wider than him, if he could just move  _ right _ …

The high-powered beam of the soldier’s flashlight was just beginning to light up the cell in strips when his radio squawked.

_ “No need, soldier. Return to regular patrol.” _

There was a pause where the soldier didn’t move. Then, thankfully, his flashlight swung away. Optimus still tensed when the light passed just over his plating, highlighting the red flames there, but the soldier didn’t notice. A few minutes of tense waiting got his footsteps to finally fade away into nothing.

Optimus released the soft vent he didn’t know he was holding. Then he smiled up at Megatron through the low light. Their new position had the mech straddling Optimus.

_ ::What were you saying about your ceiling node?::  _ As if to prove his point, he pressed deeper again. 

 

Megatron shivered, plating rattling against Optimus as the two of them strained to fit in this enclosed space. It was hardly the best backdrop for a romantic reunion, but now that the Prime had started down this path, Megatron would absolutely not stop him. It had been too long since he was free to feel, and what came back to him now was a tidal wave of desire for his lover.

_ I don’t love you anymore. _

That didn’t seem to impede his desire for Megatron whatsoever. Rather than puzzling about his bondmate’s state of mind, though, Megatron ground himself onto those digits, having them sink deep enough to tap several clusters. His engine revved hungrily.

_ ::I need you pressed up against it.:: _

 

_ ::What a coincidence. I was just about to do the same.::  _ He thrust his servo up against Megatron and lubricant gushed around his servo. His own engine begged to respond to Megatron’s, but Optimus pushed it down with an immense force of will.

Inside Megatron, he rubbed against several clusters, moving from one to the next with wild abandon. Both of them struggled to remain alert against intruders when the temptation to drown in each other was so much stronger.  _ ::You have to be quiet.:: _

Pointedly, Optimus tapped against where he knew Megatron’s engine would be.

_ ::Unless you want this to stop. And I, for one, don’t.::  _

 

_ ::You’re making that particular task very difficult.::  _

Megatron didn’t shift, optic dimming as he concentrated harder on his manual overrides. He had to quieten his engine, or risk being discovered and unleashing a new kind of hell on Optimus. And as much as the Prime probably deserved that for this middle-of-the-night-nothing-is-solved-but-frag-it-all action, Megatron too had missed his bondmate’s affections too much to put a stop to this.

His open helm sparked a little with the effort, but his rumbles died down to an acceptable level, no louder than the snoozing, snoring sparklings.

_ ::I don’t want you to ever stop again.:: _

 

_ ::Peace comes with many perks.::  _ He pulled Megatron closer for another kiss, mindful of all the open circuits that dotted his face. To those, he could only press his helm to gently, in a silent apology. It had been necessary, but it had also been  _ brutal _ .

His digits slipped out of Megatron with a gush of more lubricant. Another time and place, Optimus could’ve spent his time building up charge for both of them. Indulged Megatron, until he really  _ was _ a puddle, but a cell block with only two hours until the humans rose was not the place. He angled Megatron against himself instead, and the tip of his spike pushed past the lips of his valve, barely penetrating.

_ ::Remember. Quiet.:: _

That was all he said before he thrust. Contrary to his own advice, Optimus choked on a sharp inhale of his own. His fans were kept offline out of force, but the slats rattled as Optimus had to bite his glossa to refrain from undue noise. It was like being punched back into the past –  all these years, and the wonder of interfacing with Megatron had yet to dim.

 

Millennia fell off of Megatron’s shoulders, just for a moment. This wasn’t about war or betrayal or all the destruction he’d caused. This was between him and Optimus, and it was a fragile, real moment of both memory and present. It wasn’t forgiving, it wasn’t discussion of the future. It was just Optimus, coming to a moment’s rest, with him, who finally could claim to be himself again. Megatron reached to pull his Prime closer. It would limit the strength of the thrusts, but the broken, crippled warframe couldn’t handle a real passionate exchange anyway. His biolights, where they were visible through cracks, shone brightly, alive with charge he had never forgotten.

_ ::Optimus...:: _

Was it perverse to call this experience coming home? Megatron didn’t care. He focused on the unity of their frames and he wanted to purr, or moan, or anything else to express himself other than muted, silent wonder. So instead of speaking, he flooded the bond with everything he’d been repressing from the moment he regained full control over his mind. The joy, the pain of Optimus’ absence from him, sweeping over the bond and battering at the Prime’s spark, just as Megatron’s long-dormant valve was clasping greedily at the familiar intrusion.

 

The bond was swollen with memories, bitter-sweet and beloved, as each of their silent wonders bounced back and forth. Optimus held Megatron as tightly as he did him, and they met in the middle to share a kiss that was one part desperation, one part impatience, and reunion all over. Neither one of them were inclined to to mod their arrays. Megatron’s, as far as he could tell, remained the same since four million years ago. 

_ ::I missed you,:: _ Optimus repeated, as if that needed saying.  _ ::I l – ::: _

He held himself back, just in time. There was no need to further complicate things like that. 

Instead, he concentrated on the feeling of Megatron around him. His hot valve, the way it pulsed around him, each aborted sound from Megatron as he stopped himself from making noise. When he pressed his palm flat against Megatron’s plating, Optimus could feel the steady thrum of his engine, powerful despite his wounds, as it rumbled as low as he could make it.

Optimus swallowed thickly. Even as he thrust into Megatron, he craved more. His valve clenched, dripping with each shudder of Megatron’s valve, as if to mimic him. Reaching down between them, Optimus wrapped his digits around his spike.

It felt unchanged, same as the rest of him, and he squeezed.

 

Holding back was becoming increasingly difficult. Optimus remembered each and every detail of how to treat Megatron, exactly how to be held, how to be touched, and how to be, for a lack of a finer word, fragged. It was like history fell apart between them, their bond that, although it had suffered, been blinded and deceived, never broke. The bond that allowed to feel each other’s deaths, disappointments and pain now brought sweet memories, which held the bitter truth at bay. 

Megatron wanted to be loud, he wanted to express what joy it was to reunite with his mate, to return, at least for a night, to how they should be. His overload was alarmingly fast in its approach, barely tempered by his attempts to keep quiet.

Optimus squeezing at his spike was a downright challenge, and the former warlord was rapidly losing. Between their kiss and Optimus’ tight thrusts against his nodes and clusters, the charge was kindling his systems, running visible lines over his frame.

_ ::I need you. I missed you, and I need you and I never want to be parted from you again.:: _

His desperation bled into silent confessions of love, deep and unchanged and yet fraught with sorrow.

 

_ ::Not if I can help it.::  _ How was it that they never could stop this obsession with each other? 

Optimus ached with each desperate flood of emotions towards him. It confused him. It bewildered him. He wanted to reject it but embrace it, and the lack of certainty frustrated him. In an unexpectedly violent move, he pinned Megatron to the wall and kissed him as if to silence his unending deluge of confessions.

The loudest sound made yet was the harsh crash of their arrays meeting. It was muted, thanks to the shut door, and no one came running to check. Optimus remained like that, buried in Megatron, positioned so that he loomed over him.

_ ::You are… you are…::  _ He had no words to describe what Megatron was supposed to be anymore. 

_ ::I need you.:: _

It was as close to a confession as he was willing to go. Charge crackled down Megatron’s plating and over Optimus’ arms and he stifled a moan against Megatron’s mouth. The overload was a rushed thing, built up with tension and much-needed release, and Optimus held Megatron tight to himself, venting into his audial and realizing he was quietly repeating his name over and over.

Embarrassed, he stopped as soon as he caught himself.

 

Megatron’s overload was also a rushed thing, but one that affected him vastly more than Optimus’ beautiful little display. The rough kiss, the tight hold, everything just served to spiral the unbearable heat within Megatron to new heights. The charge caused static bursts, all over his frame, chasing each other up from his array over his plating and broken armor, dancing briefly in a jagged rhythm over his sparkchamber before lunging upwards for his processor.

Megatron could taste it in the back of his intake, iron and energon and charge, a wondrous, if potent mixture as it pulsed upward. His optic brightened, impossibly so, and he could feel the crackle and burn on his exposed circuitry. He whined, a low-pitched, engine-deep sound, wrought with keen pleasure and the ache of missing it for too long. This was what he had needed, ached for, to be with Optimus like this. Intimate. Two halves of a whole that should never have been divided.

The charge continued, and his optic, overtaxed and in poor condition, shorted out before it popped with a strange little crackle.

Megatron couldn’t quite realise what had happened until he noticed that even in the darkness, he could not see Optimus. At all.

_ ::Optimus?:: _


	7. Interval

_ ::Optimus?:: _

 

_ ::I’m here.::  _ With a weary sigh, he raised his helm to assess the damage. Gently, he picked at the little bits of glass that trickled out of his socket.  _ ::I think you overwhelmed your optic. The diodes inside are broken.:: _

Sighing, he pressed a slow kiss on Megatron. Transfluid dripped sluggishly, puddling on the ground, and when Optimus pulled out, more oozed down Megatron’s inner thigh. Optimus cupped his valve to stop anymore from dripping on the floor. They would already have a tough time explaining his broken optic and the charge lingering in there, they didn’t need any more damning evidence.

Now, without the haze of lust to distract him, Optimus was beginning to realize the conundrum he was in. Who said  _ I don’t love you anymore _ to their ex… and then went to their cell for a frag? Disgust rose in his field, all of it aimed at himself.

_ ::Pits.  _ **_Pits_ ** _!:: _

What was  _ wrong _ with him?

 

Megatron had to make the switch to his other senses in order to establish where Optimus physically was, and how his reaction to all of this panned out as the warframe recovered, slowly, from his pleasant ordeal. He was still very warm, and very slick, though his panel did ping to close. Without Optimus holding him preciously close, he leaned back until his helm found support. He tilted it in the Prime’s general direction.

_ ::What is it? Did someone see?:: _

The worry and strange distaste in the Prime’s field had the blind, former warlord on edge and he reached out until he could rest a claw on his mate’s shoulder.

 

_ ::No… we shouldn’t have done this.  _ **_I_ ** _ shouldn’t have done this. You’re my prisoner. Do you realize how many codes of ethics this breaks?:: _

He pinched his bond with Megatron shut, trying to gain control and failing.  _ ::This isn’t fair to you. I can’t go saying one thing and then doing another. This was a mistake.:: _

He scrambled back from Megatron, no matter how much it pained him to let him go. His plating felt cold in the aftermath, alone and passionless.

_ ::I just can’t seem to have  _ **_control_ ** _ around you.::  _ And if he couldn’t even do that, then perhaps it was time he separated himself from Megatron. Enough was enough.

_ ::Optimus!::  _

Megatron tried to siphon the bond back open, but his mate was an expert at closing it off when he wanted to. Millenna made for good practice, after all. The Prime’s rapid departure had Megatron’s arm clatter to the side, and although the warlord did move forward, this time he didn’t have the direction or vision to follow his beloved anywhere. When he banged into the bars, the whole hangar echoed with the dull clang and the sparklings scattered as they awoke, trying to get inside the cell.

_ ::Don’t leave me like this.:: _

He was more damaged, the cell reeked of charge and his frame itself was streaked. Blue, red, and a whole lot of transfluid.

 

The paint streaks could be explained away as results from their most recent fight. It was normal, after all, to have an opponent’s paint scraped off on one’s plating during a brawl. The transfluid could be mopped up. The broken optic could be his frame simply failing even further. And the charge… the charge could be aired out, if done discreetly.

All of this went through Optimus’ helm as he stared at Megatron, still in his cell. It was strange to realize he was so  _ vulnerable _ now. In fact, if Optimus truly wanted…

_ He could kill him _ .

It would be simple. One thrust of his sword through his sparkchamber, then skewer his brain module. Afterwards, it would take one drop into a smelting pool to finish off what remained.

Immediately as the thought occurred to him, his self-loathing came back wholly renewed.

_ ::I’m here.::  _ He grabbed Megatron’s elbow before he could bump into the bars again. Soothing the sparklings with a pulse of his EM field, Optimus wrapped Megatron into an embrace. It wasn’t anything approaching the level of intimacy they’d just engaged it –  no, that was dangerous. This was a touch that reeked of regret and apology.

_ ::I will have you repaired,:: _ he vowed,  _ ::and your name cleared.:: _

In classic Optimus fashion, he avoided the actual topic. A one time frag and a lapse of his stoicism would just be another load on his shoulders.

_ ::I don’t think I can do this again.:: _

Even if he could, he would not. It wasn’t  _ right _ .

 

In his grasp, Megatron said nothing. Of course it was too good to be true. There was no way that, with everything that had happened during the war, Optimus could simply return to wanting and loving him. Frag, maybe, but forgiveness was something entirely different and not as easy to achieve as a mere one-time desire.

Optimus did not love him. It was probably the memory of their previous relationship that had driven him to this point now. It was...expected. Megatron’s future was in this cell, and nowhere else. Hope shrivelled back up inside of him, cowering behind the guilt of being a failure to his mate, his planet and his species.

_ ::You said you needed me. Or was it just a need to frag?:: _

It meant something, didn’t it? Optimus couldn’t just let him go.

 

_ ::No! It was…::  _ The need to be able to touch someone. The need to reaffirm that Megatron really was here, as he knew him. To feel his frame again and to look at him and know he was loved.  _ ::I don’t know what it was. But it wasn’t that.:: _

He opened the bond tentatively. Through it, he pushed his confusion along, trying to explain a concept that words failed him on. He himself didn’t fully grasp what he was doing anymore –  could Megatron hope to divine an answer?

_ ::...I’m sorry.:: _

 

Optimus could be foolish, still, even at his age. And even though Megatron was developing a large margin of acceptable pain that he was going to bear forever, Optimus treating him like this was definitely going to hurt much deeper. What was he, Optimus’ convenience? His confusion didn’t help. If Optimus didn’t see that he still felt something for Megatron, the former Lord Protector was not going to clarify it to him. He couldn’t. His Prime was too stubborn, and he was entirely vulnerable and now, helpless and imprisoned.

_ ::I’m not your outlet. I may have surrendered, I may be completely at your mercy and I may love you like a fool, but I am not your outlet. Think about it, Optimus. Think about what you want, from me, and from our future. I’ll wait.:: _

 

His field drooped, as did his antennae. Apology radiated from him in ever stronger waves as Optimus gathered the last shreds of his ruined dignity to his person.  _ ::I will. And until then, I won’t bother you.:: _

It was a piss-poor explanation, but it was all he was willing to give before fleeing the cell. The bond was open as was his comm, but he skirted around both skittishly.  He needed space. Proper space, and time to think. Perhaps it was time for a good long drive on one of the highways. It would help clear his mind.

…

The time to clear his stretched from a few hours of aimless driving to a whole day. Orders came and went. The Decepticons had their energon rations allotted out and their repairs done. Megatron’s optics were restored, along with his servos. His brain module required time, however, and specialized materials they didn’t have. Ratchet hemmed and hawed over him, trying to figure out how to patch his helm without compromising his neural circuits. In the end, there was a mission to recover one of the many corpses scattered around Earth and scavenge their materials to complete the damaged circuits and patch his helm. It was a crude job, but it served its purpose.

And still Optimus continued to avoid him. He entertained the sparklings when they scampered over to him and still sneaked half his own energon to his cell, but refused anything further than that. A day became a week, and that became a month. By pretending to be swamped with work –  and he was, in a way –  Optimus could pretend he wasn’t actually avoiding a big emotional talk with the possible love of his life.

 

Megatron kept his word. Both on the cooperation of the captive Decepticons, and on his personal terms, waiting for Optimus to come to him again. He half expected the Prime to give in after a couple of weeks, to come and see and maybe just hold him again. He could feel the hesitation and questions across the bond. Once or twice, he even sent the most subtle of reassurance to his mate, affirming that he continued to exist, and continued to wait.

It gave him time to think, though Megatron could not be grateful for it. What went around his helm almost made him wish for it to be damaged again. The extinction he was responsible for. The rift.

The sparklings were a ray of light in his otherwise gloomy existence. Fed and safe, they were developing, slowly forming from beastly altmodes to actual rootforms. They resembled him and Optimus in glaringly obvious ways, some of them even starting to adopt the Prime’s colour scheme. They were almost comfortable with the humans now, all but two having actual bipedal modes and learning to accept language packages. It was amazing, what a little real fuel could do.

The two that had not progressed much continued to cling to Megatron’s side, only perking up when they caught sight of Ravage now and then.

Megatron divided his time between the education of his sparklings (and playtime when no human was watching), brooding about the war and how to close the rift between Autobot and Decepticon, and his evenings, wistfully staring over at the Prime’s closed door.

It never opened.

 

Megatron would wait. He had all the time in the world now, right?


	8. Familiar Hell

“Optimus! We have a problem!”

Lennox didn’t elaborate, since the shrieking alarms and bellowing sounds of engines and running feet drowned out everything else in the background. It was early in the morning, dawn had barely woken this half of the Earth, and Optimus on his rounds beyond the base only got this brief audio clip as a message, because the base was in chaos. And half of it exposed and collapsed against the mountain. Megatron’s cell was the worst of it all. The windowless, dark crevice was flooded by bright sunlight now, illuminating the enormous husk of Megatron, hunched over two smaller heaps of metal. Lennox had known it was bad the second the dust cleared and they actually got to see the damage done to the NEST base.

Prime was going to be furious. Megatron was dead (not the worst thing) and his damn head was gone. No pieces, no scorch marks on his chassis, meant that someone had taken it (definitely bad). And if that wasn’t gritty enough...the babies were dead (absolutely the worst thing). The sparklings had been growing on everyone, with their timid yet playful nature and reasonable size compared to a human. They were all soldiers, and no strangers to Cybertronians, but kid robots? Who the hell could resist that?

So finding the little frames crumpled behind Megatron’s bulk was...nauseating. Optimus was going to be  _ pissed _ .

 

He’d been driving along a lonely dirt road somewhere in the countryside, circling around softly swelling hills with dust plumes streaming up behind him when the emergency call came. There were four codes assigned to basic comm pings – green, yellow, red, and black. Green was  _ friendly, no danger.  _ Yellow was  _ warning, caution.  _ Red was  _ danger _ . And black, the least used code of all, was  _ catastrophe _ .

Immediately, he swung around, maneuvering with precision no earthly driver could replicate, and pebbles sprayed out under his wheels as he accelerated. He disregarded the highway for something much faster – open country. Grass was churned up into two thick brown lines that marked his hurried race to the base.

_ ::Captain Lennox. Elaborate. Bumblebee. Ratchet. Come in!:: _

He pinged all the other Autobots, calling for information. Finally, Lennox was back on the line. He sounded tired, but the panicked noises in the background had faded.

“Someone broke into Megatron’s cell. They took his head and the sparklings. Two are dead.”

Something cold dripped inside of Optimus, freezing his lines hard. It was a familiar, deadly, twisted feeling. It was what he felt when he watched another atrocity happen that he could not stop. It was the endless well of black, furious, biting anger that this war had grown in him. It was the strength he dipped into, when nothing else could suffice against the brutal bleakness of what survival truly meant.

 

_ ::Understood.:: _

Optimus wasted no time on niceties when he was in the base. He was stomping through the grounds, ignoring the many shouts around him as he zeroed in on Captain Lennox. The human was hunched besides the cell that had housed Megatron, and wordlessly, he brushed Lennox aside to assess the damage himself.

Bright sunlight illuminated everything inside. Megatron’s frame was half-collapsed within. He wasn’t dead, however, because Optimus could feel their bond alive and well, thrumming with emotions that he shut off. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.

Slowly, he took hold of Megatron’s shoulders and pushed him. His plating scraped as it dragged along the hard cement, sparks flying from the open circuits ringing his neck, bare and open for the world to gawk at.

Limply, the body fell onto its back without resistance. Something else crackled, and Optimus looked down.

His helm hung.

Kneeling, he cradled the tiny bodies in shaking servos. They were the last ones to develop. They still had their beastly forms. Delicate legs, thin and flimsy, hung slack as he lifted them to the light. He could no longer feel their sparks in their chests. Each one was pockmarked with deep slashes and singed. One’s forelegs had been cut at the tendons and a thick, blackened hole was bored into the back of his helm. The other’s neck cabling had been severed. The main fuel pump hang loose and wretched, snaking out of the thin panels of his chest and still leaking the last drops of his energon. The spark, starved, had given out before anyone could offer support.

His thumb wiped over the scorch marks, and the faint colors underneath could be seen. Gray and blue, weakly gleaming. It was dulling as time progressed. It all would, until the uniform grey of death took over him.

Optimus held them close, optics dimmed. There was a brief moment of silence.

“Damage report. Casualties. Megatron.”

“Half the base is blown out. They had inside operatives that planted C4 to blow the side of the mountain wide open. Then they used a drill, or a saw of some sort to sever Megatron’s head. I don’t know how they subdued him. Thirteen dead, forty-five injured. The ‘bots are all fine, if a little dented. Trackers are all going out on Megatron, and he seems to be moving out north-east at an estimated hundred-twenty miles per hour. It could be a train. A plane. Car. We don’t know.”

“Give it to me.”

“The track - ? Optimus, we can’t just -”

“Let me clarify myself.” Optimus knelt to one knee, so Lennox could see his burning optics better. He still held the sparklings.

“That wasn’t  _ optional _ .”

They gave him the tracker.

 

-x-

 

The no rmal top speed of a Peterbilt hauler wasn’t all that impressive. Sure, if it gained some momentum, it was a right nightmare. But in reality, it was no sportscar.

Optimus, however, wasn’t any vehicle alt. His top speed capped around 200 miles per hour, give or take what new upgrades he had at that moment. And how angry he was.

Given that he was still was fresh off his latest death and in a towering incandescent fury, that meant he was  _ fast _ .

The transport appeared to be a train, escorted by a host of cars. Optimus wheeled up close behind them, scanning them.  _ Humans _ . His normal escort was hot on his heels, running alongside the train. They were busy dealing with the host, shouldering them out of the way and behind them with fast, aggressive maneuvers.

Normally, Optimus didn’t like hurting the humans. They were so small and the Cybertronians were the invaders of  _ their _ home – he had no right to push them around as he pleased.

Normally, however, the humans didn’t  kill two of his offspring and steal his mate. No matter the history, it was clear; Megatron had surrendered. Human laws dictated that prisoners, no matter how horrible in crime, had to be treated to certain standard.

This flagrant flouting of the law told Optimus that these couldn’t be humans allied with their government. These weren’t soldiers who were fighting a justified war to protect themselves. These were murderers and criminals.

He’d never looked kindly upon their kind.

With a guttural roar of his engine, he closed the final span of distance between him and the train. Transforming mid-air, he latched onto the last car with a heavy crash of metal. It sped by under him but no one stopped him. His Autobots were distracting them all.

Half his attention on the tracker, Optimus began the harrowing climb to the car that carried Megatron. Wind whipped at his plating. For a moment, he couldn’t help but wonder at the ease of this. It had taken them, at the most, two hours to catch up with the train. The car host around them wasn’t even fighting back –

He hadn’t finished the thought before an explosion sounded behind. His helm jerked back to look.

One of the cars had obviously overestimated the width of the road. Rather than swing around Bumblebee, it’d run off and flipped, and Optimus caught the scent of nitrogen triiodide. What were the humans doing with something so volatile?

Something about this situation kept niggling at him. Optimus looked down at the car he was hunched on. This was the one containing the tracker, and with it, Megatron. But why had this retrieval been so easy? Why were the humans not fighting? And why had there been something as volatile as nitrogen triiodide in the vicinity?

The tracker blinked up at him.

For once, Optimus decided in the favor of emotion.

They had killed his sparklings.

They had taken Megatron.

 

Backing out now wasn’t an option. Another explosion rocked behind him, but his attention was solely on the car.

With a fierce jab, his fist smashed through the roof of the car. Optimus gripped it tightly, securing his hold, before rising onto his pedes and hauling the roof back like a peel. It squealed under his strength and he was nearly knocked off when the train jumped over a minor issue in the tracks. Nonetheless, it came back. Another glance around showed his Autobots to be faithfully following the train. The train’s host was now short three cars.

Optimus continued to rip at the car, pulling it wide open.

“Megatron, I’m here!”

 

The tracker continued to blink.

But nothing was there.

 

_ What _ ?

 

He reached across the bond frantically, trying to grasp at him. His spark repeated the same note of spark-deep panic and fear, but offered no answers.

_ ::Megatron!:: _

 

Nothing.

He threw the roof he’d ripped off back behind him, growing more frantic by the minute. He’d been  _ there _ to watch NEST install the trackers, so where could it  _ be _ ?

Looking around, he entered the car pedes first. More scanning showed no life signs, but the tracker led to here.

Something crunched underfoot. Raising it, he looked down at the little crumpled pieces of metal on his pede, confused, until he saw the glitter of the tracker within.

No.

_ No _ .

 

Whatever he’d stepped on bled blue. He could see little digits and servos, thin arms that led to a caved in chassis and a familiar, spiked helm that now lifelessly peered upwards.

Optimus wanted to retch.

 

How dare they?

How  _ dare  _ they?

 

With an inarticulate roar, he tore out of the car and raced to the front of the train. His sword was ripped out of its sheath and the bright metal gleamed vengeance in the light as Optimus leapt forward and sunk it through the engine of the train. It sank in easily, slicing through components. Someone was trying to yell at him over comms, but he was too distracted to listen.

The train shuddered as it failed, but sheer momentum forced the first car a few more feet forward. The first car tried to slow, but the next car rammed into it with teeth-rattling force, the two hooks that connected them bending. Every other car after it slammed into the one in front of it and they all crashed, too many cars trying to force themselves into too little space of tracks, and the train derailed from the middle. Three cars almost lifted from the tracks and tipped dangerously, dragging the rest with them. With a cry of groaning metal, the train keeled over to the right, ripping up the tracks with it as it went. Great clods of dirt flew up from under the train as it went tumbling down the small hill the track had been on, uprooting trees with agonizing cracks of wood and ripping massive gashes into the soil. Each roll of the cars made the earth vibrate.

Optimus, who’d jumped away the moment the train threatened to buck him, slowly walked closer to watch it fall. The Autobots transformed to follow suit, and there was only silence as they witnessed the train roll. Even when it stopped, no one tried to speak.

 

Something was wrong. All the Autobots knew it, the minute they saw Optimus’ temper snap.

 

“It was a decoy,” Optimus finally said, after the pause had gone on long enough. “Whoever is responsible for this extracted the tracker and planted it on…”

“On?” It was Ironhide who dared to pipe in.

Optimus didn’t look at him as he answered.

“On a sparkling.”

 

There was a sharp inhale. Every ‘bot on base could guess whose sparklings had been underfoot the entire time at base. No one wanted to openly discuss it, but it became patently obvious once their bipedal forms evolved. But the nature of their innocence and the miracle of their survival had absolved them of one half of their parentage. The sparklings had been their hopes for a brighter tomorrow. For more of their kin, for a Cybertron rebirthed, and now, their dead numbered at three.

This wasn’t a kill made during a fight.

This had been premeditated. This had been calculated. Someone had taken the tracker and planted it in a sparkling and now…

 

“The  _ humans _ did this.” It was Sideswipe who spoke up. He sounded angry. He’d always been a short-tempered mech and this  _ desecration _ pushed his vague tolerance of the humans to the breaking point. “I will  _ kill them _ !”

His outburst broke the dam. More voices, raised and pitched, rose up into a din as everyone’s outrage boiled over. Sideswipe continued to promise death and Wheeljack plotted and Ironhide was loudly trying to regain order, but only adding to the commotion.

“Enough.”

When Optimus spoke, he cut through the chatter with his field. Where everyone’s anger had been hot, his rage was a cold one. It was a bitter one. His optics were flat and his mouth pursed into a tight line. They quieted, made meek by this sudden and new side of their leader. Ironhide, however, knew that look.

He’d seen it only twice  in his life before. The day Optimus faced Megatron in the battlefield for the first time, and the day their planet died.

It was the look of a mech losing the unthinkable.

It was loss and retribution in one.

It was the look of a good mech putting down his words and taking up his sword instead.


	9. Chapter 9

Optimus blew into NEST with all the force and thunder of a storm. He bellowed for Lennox, forcing the man to run to him, and the captain was staggered by the sheer weight of the fury that crashed upon him when the mech found him. Four million years of anguish wounded anew draped him in a vehemence unlike anything Lennox had seen from the mech, and the change was transformative.

Optimus’ patient, considerate slowness was gone from his frame. He moved quickly, quietly, and decisively, forcing the humans to scatter whenever his heavy steps shook the ground too much for their comfort. None of the other Autobots seemed inclined to hold him back; Optimus was the avatar of their own outrage, and through him, they would have their answers. Even the ‘bots who had humans they were fond of wasn’t as inviting.

What was a few years of friendship, after all, to a millennia of grief?

“The tracker was attached to a sparkling,” Optimus said. His voice was tight, barely held in check. He would’ve shouted, but that would’ve blown out Lennox’s fragile eardrums. “Megatron was never there. They  _ tricked _ us.”

“We’re working on it,” Lennox replied frantically, “none of us expected this attack. We’re trying to bring in everything we have to fix this problem, Optimus. You aren’t alone!”

“You promised that this base was safe. How did they know to find us here?”  _ Nest is compromised _ hung between them, unspoken, but known.

Lennox looked stubborn as he glared back. “We’re not impregnable. Mistakes happen.”

Optimus wanted to argue back. He wanted to shout his frustrations at Lennox, demand if he could comprehend how much had happened and the gravity of Megatron’s surrender, but knew it was no use. With a harsh vent, he wrestled his calm back into place.

“…I understand. This isn’t the time or place for arguments. We must concentrate on locating Megatron and identifying the perpetrators. Do you have a different location for us to be housed in, now that this one is compromised?”

Lennox rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing. He looked down at his boots silently, thinking, before looking back up. “Right. Yeah. We might have a place, but I have to clear it with my superiors. For now, I don’t think anyone would dare an attack right after alerting us. We’ll clean up here while we figure out how and where to take you.”

“Very well. Thank you, Captain Lennox.” Optimus turned away from Lennox, expression briefly falling into something bitter before smoothing out. “Help the troops,” he ordered.

The Autobots quickly scattered.

Optimus glanced at Megatron’s old cell. It was mostly rubble now and something in him ached. He unconsciously reached up to touch his chest, where the bond continued to shiver with dread.

_ I’m coming, Megatron. _

 

Darkness encased him. Or rather, what was left of him. Megatron no longer had the luxury of being able to turn his head, since he now lacked a body. It wasn't an immediate death sentence but for the sake of avoiding any more sparklings dying to subdue him, he had the light fade out of his optics and acted as if his decapitation had killed him. He could feel his spark, severed from his mind, very far from him. It would take time for him to die like this. Time he didn't doubt the humans would use. What did they want with him? He could take a wild guess, judging on his experience encased in ice for centuries. Humans were ruthless scavengers, hungry for Cybertronian biology and engineering. No doubt existed in his heavily burdened processor that they wanted to strip data from his mind. And they thought he would surrender it to them, a dead helm as easy to access as a computer of their own, rudimentary technology.

They were in for a surprise.

He might have found it funny to be back in their clutches, if it didn't involve his offspring. Three had already died. The two in his cell had tried to find protection in his presence, but they'd been the instrument to his surrender. The humans had sworn not to kill his young if he obeyed. And yet, he knew they had, the moment the humans wrenched his helm from his severed neck-cables.

He would  _ kill _ this entire planet for the treachery of humans. This he vowed and this time, the rage and hatred was his alone. He didn't need the Fallen to guide his rage.

Optimus would have to see reason, if they would ever reunite.

Optimus...Megatron couldn’t hear him. And with this distance to his spark, he also couldn’t feel him. It was like being under the Fallen’s command all over again, with his bond, aching and screaming into the void, unanswered and forsaken.

Would his mate be able to find him? Or would he bow to the human ruling regarding interference by third parties? The Prime’s mentality when it came to lesser species was commendably noble, but not very practical during an exodus on a hostile world.

Megatron would never label it as anything else.

His comms were still calibrating, and hemmed by the transport box his helm had been dumped into. Someone didn’t want him to put out a distress call, or be tracked. Did they have a notion about how wrong they were in butchering and taking a prisoner in the aftermath of his surrender? If he wanted to, and if he ever had the chance to, Megatron could use this as reason enough to return to the war he had started. 

But Megatron was tired of war, of death and destruction. Only humanity, he vowed, then no more.

 

A day passed. The rubble of the attack was mostly cleared away. Nearly all the sparklings were gone, save for a single one who’d hidden under the rubble. Optimus cradled this one close. He was the one who looked closest to Megatron, with his grey coloration and jagged helm. He could still only communicate only in binary, but everything about his frame spoke of fear. The origin of it was obvious and every time Optimus looked upon the way his sparkling shied away from humans, he felt a new bubble of slow simmering rage grow in him.

Someone would pay for this.

 

The day of payback, however, was held off when their government contact, Charlotte Mearing, talked to them. The woman’s face was grave and Optimus received her with the faintest undertone of suspicion in his optics.

 

“Hello, Director.”

 

“Hello, Prime,” she said primly, arranging a stack of papers. They were in the hangar, with her seated on a desk high on a catwalk.

Optimus saw the way she looked at him; cold, measuring, and knew this wasn’t going to be one of the good meetings. He always had to wrangle with the human government – haggle over materials, negotiate technology trade, barter out his people’s history and culture like so many tokens to buy a safe haven in a planet they didn’t even want to be on. It was just one of life’s many hard knocks.

“Captain Lennox informed me that you wished to speak to me,” Optimus said. His optic zoomed to look at her papers, but she covered them with her forearm, obscuring most of the words on it. Deliberate.

“I did,” Mearing said, and she folded her hands together, shoulder squaring as if to fight. Her arm still covered the papers. “It was about your unauthorized, violent attack on a civilian train yesterday.”

Optimus bristled at the unsaid accusation. “It carried a tracker,” he said, “Megatron’s tracker. It was the result of a violent attack on this base, as you can see.”

Mearing didn’t look around. She hadn’t, since she came in. “I see,” she said, in a voice that implied she didn’t at all. “But the issue remains. You caused a lot of damage to the landscape and to government property. Over… a gadget.”

“It was a  _ tracker _ ,” Optimus insisted, feeling his frustration build. “We had it installed in Megatron on the day of his surrender, so that his movements could be noted at all times. He was taken, and the tracker with him. I apologize for the damages, Director, but it was necessary.”

 

“Train 2307 was a civilian industrial machine bearing transport. There was no tracker inside it. My agents checked the scene. Nothing. You can’t attack whatever you like without consequences.”

Optimus’ jaw tightened. “Captain Lennox will vouch when I say that the train contained a tracker that was originally in Megatron’s frame.”

“Captain Lennox is currently under review for unprofessional conduct,” Mearing smoothly countered, “He should not have given you the authorization to hare off.”

“Megatron –“

“On the  _ topic _ of Megatron,” Mearing cut through Optimus’ rebuttal, raising her voice to cover his, “His surrender itself is highly suspect. As is NEST’s operations for allowing this. He is a dangerous fugitive, terrorist, and illegal immigrant who has done unimaginable damage to America and her people.”

“Under your laws, a prisoner must be treated with their basic rights.”

“ _ Human _ prisoners. Megatron is no human.”

Optimus stared. “Director Mearing,” he finally said, words slow, “I do not think you realize what you implied there. We are Cybertronians, yes, but we are as sentient as you.”

She only made a noncommittal noise at that. A paper flickered into her hand which she consulted. Her arm covered the rest.

“Prime, I’m afraid that you must face the consequences of your increasingly rash actions. Hosting Megatron, attacking civilian transports… it does not look good.”

 

Optimus stared at her. For all that she was human, she was not so different than some of the mecha he knew in his time as Prime on Cybertron. There was no use trying to argue her point.

“What do you mean?”

“There will be a hearing,” she said, simple. “Don’t worry, Prime. I’m sure things will be resolved perfectly.”

 

Said hearing was just about the only thing humanity delivered unto the Prime in a timely manner. Word of Megatron and the identity of his assailants remained absent, and it did nothing to perk Optimus' mood to be directed into some juridical farce. It was only his fervent hope for cooperation that had him accept the curt invitation to squeeze his frame into a specially prepared hangar for the proceedings.

 

“Please stand, Optimus Prime of Cybertron, commander-in-chief of the Autobots.”

 

He transformed from altmode and stood, uncomfortable in the impromptu courtroom they’d taken him to. His helm nearly scraped the ceiling, and he towered over the humans in their seats. It was far from the base he and his Autobots had stayed in and he knew only Director Mearing. The rest were unfamiliar faces, though they spoke with no great surprise to him. So they knew of him, then. Why then, did he not know of them?

There had been an agreement to share knowledge of Cybertronian affairs. Was sharing their existence not Cybertronian affairs?

“Hello, honored judges,” he replied, voice low in respects to the limited space they were in.

 

Director Mearing arranged her papers.

“You are under review for unlawful actions and reneging on your agreement with the United States government. Do you understand this?”

“I would like to protest that – “

Using her mic, she overspoke him. “Do you understand this?”

Denta gritted, Optimus abided. “...yes.”

“The charges as are as followed: reneging on your contract with the United States government to aid in combatting Cybertronian enemies of state by accepting Megatron of Cybertron’s surrender. Unauthorized, violent attack of a civilian transport. Bringing in enemies of state into a military base. And finally, withholding information.”

“I refute all of them.” It was strange that he had no lawyer or legal representation on his side. “Where is my lawyer? Should I not have such representation in your courts?”

“Illegal alien immigrants cannot have access to lawyers.”

“Illegal?” Optimus frowned. “Your government granted us residency.”

“Residency under specific conditions. You have broken at least three of the tenets. As of yesterday at 12 hundred hours, your residency contract was made void.”

_ What _ ? No one had told him that!

 

“This hearing can be held off until the contract can be renewed.”

Mearing sighed. “I think you misunderstand, Prime. This is about whether or not you are going to be legally allowed on US soil anymore. As you can see, you have demonstrated a shocking disregard for your conditionals.”

He glanced at their faces, bewildered. Each one was hard, staring him down. Optimus was shocked speechless briefly, before regaining his ground. “Proceed, Director,” he said, voice cold, “as I was under the impression that the contract would be renewed well before expiration and that this hearing was something entirely different.”

“We will get to that soon,” Mearing just said. “Now, regarding the status of NEST. Seeing that is is a redundant branch of our military, it will be disbanded. Furthermore, the residency of the faction “Autobots” will be transferred to the KSI branch. New rules will be implemented in order to – “

“Director Mearing– !”

 

The gavel slammed down. “Order!” shouted a judge, silencing Optimus. Apparently, enormous alien robots were not enough to ruffle this individual's need for courtroom manners, “Follow legal procedure during court session, please.”

“How can I when I don’t  _ know _ what your legal procedures are? I have not had legal representation, nor an equal hearing. This is an executive order that I was not informed of, nor consent to. I have never heard of KSI and I refuse to put my Autobots under the watch of any other organization than NEST.”

 

“If you cannot hold order in the court,” the judge said coolly, “you will be escorted out. A proxy will be held in place for your position in the court – “

 

“I have had enough of this legal farce.”

Optimus stood. The judge cowered, while Mearing stood her ground. Optimus addressed her, angering burning behind his optics. “Let us speak,” he growled, “when  _ you _ understand legal procedure.”

With that, he left the hangar. No one tried to stop him as he went, and silence hung in the court as Mearing tapped her fingers, counting the minutes. “Deliberate refusal to follow federal law,” she said slowly, “belligerence in court. Abandonment of court session.”

“It’s… grounds for arrest.”

“Yes,” Mearing said, eyes distant. “Yes, it is.”

 

 

 

NEST was disbanded in two weeks. In that time, Optimus began to work, quickly. He was no stranger to the moods of aliens –  one moment they were friendly, one moment they were not. Just as he had his Fallen, the humans had their own evils. Sam and his family were good, but they would be no help. The Autobots left quietly, under the cover of night. New vehicle modes were scanned. Optimus picked out a slightly different hauler to help throw off the humans from his track.

They needed to be careful.

All throughout, Optimus felt his anger simmering in him. He needed to find Megatron. He needed to find their sparklings. And then… they had to leave. They were in danger, no matter where they went. Cybertron was the only haven for them.

 

Weeks had given Megatron a very in depth look at exactly what he was supposed to deliver to the humans. They tried to extract from his data banks, but found themselves before an impossible challenge. The cybertronian language was far more complex than the very best human minds could contemplate and Megatron had the additional defenses of a Lord Protector. He was equipped to withstand extraction from races such as quintessons. Humans were no match at all.

Until they hooked him up to their system, thoroughly convinced they had, in fact, killed Megatron and his head was merely a well-guarded safe.

Megatron decided to give them a trickle. Designs, mostly, a few chemical formulas for forging metals closer to alien materials. He even allowed them a fraction of his processor power. They celebrated their success, and left him in the network.

And he began to see just what KSI was up to. Drones. These pretentious little creatures thought they could  _ build _ Transformers. As if they were mere machines, not sentient beings, each unique, each with a spark and mind of their own. 

Megatron almost pitied their stupidity as he got to work, forging new comm channels to use without his frame at his disposal. It was far more rudimentary technology, but it would suffice.

Static greeted him as he keyed into the Prime’s private frequency.  Optimus had to be informed and warned. Humanity was not the peaceful, naive little ally the prime had protected.

 

They were holed up in the vast, hilly regions of Montana, with what rudimentary tech they could smuggle along with them and Megatron’s frame safely stored in Optimus’ trailer. The Decepticon prisoners were informed of their new situation and then taken with –  Ironhide had grumbled at his new alt mode and the load of two tanks in the makeshift trailer he dragged along behind him. No one had fought Optimus. Even Starscream wasn’t keen to fight when they were stranded on a possibly hostile planet.

The hearing with Mearing had been a disaster. Their human liaisons were gone or disbanded, Captain Lennox was far, far away with his own troubles, Simmons was gone, and Optimus was too canny to continue trusting the humans when their behavior all pointed at something bigger and deeper in the background. Soundwave had been the most pivotal factor in their discrete escape –  he’d shielded them from human satellites and provided a safe way to communicate and research.

Perhaps it was his own paranoia speaking, but Optimus found a tad strange that Soundwave was so willing to work with him.

It was in this situation that the Autobots (and Decepticons) faced their greatest dilemma.

“I say we smash and grab all the tech we can grab, and get out of here. Even their moon would be better than this.” For once, Starscream spoke sense. But it was not without its limits.

“We cannot afford to enter a direct confrontation with the humans,” Optimus said, quelling him with a look, “not when we don’t have the logistics to support us and when Megatron and the sparklings are still missing. They have hostages.”

“We can take our own. We  _ should _ .”

“It would only encourage hostilities against us. No war, no hostages. Everything we do here on out must be strictly stealth. Our first step is locating Megatron and the sparklings. Afterwards, we engineer our evacuation of this planet.” Optimus wanted to negotiate with the humans again. But he wouldn’t mention it when anti-human sentiment was running high in his camp, even among the ‘bots.

While Bumblebee and Ironhide, who had human friends, weren’t nearly so ready to condemn the organics, those with little or no connections to them were surly and resentful at being forced out of a fairly comfortable home.

“Ratchet, handle energon rations. Soundwave, continue to search for Megatron’s signature. Bumblebee, Sideswipe, do a quick sweep of the area and report back.”

In the wake of their escape, everyone had quickly changed their alts to better serve their purposes. Despite the grumbling, all the luxury sportscar models had been changed to something less flashy. The trade in speed was well worth the increase in stealth. As Optimus watched, two Mustangs drove away into the night.

 

“Do you think that we can stay like this forever?”

He wanted to sigh. Starscream was back. Without Megatron to keep him in line, he was eager to step into the void his loss had left.

“We won’t have to. Megatron will be found.”

“The humans will oppose us.”

“Nothing guarantees this is a unified human action. It could have been a rogue third party for all we know.”

“And the timing is the disbanding of your little group… NEST, was it? Isn’t coincidence?”

“Not all things are conspiracy.” Optimus does, actually, think it was suspicious. But he was naturally reluctant to share his concerns with someone like Starscream. His group needed him to look like he knew what he was doing –  anything otherwise could break command structure irrevocably.

“Go collect your rations before Momus steals it,” he said instead, pointedly walking away. He heard Starscream move to follow, before realizing Momus’ theft might not just be an idle threat. With a click of turbines, he was hurrying back to where Ratchet was busily protecting their energon hoard from Momus’ oily charm.

Optimus got only a short distance away when the crackles of static broke through his comm. At first he thought it was one of his, but the channel code that came through was unmistakable.

_::-timus. Optimus. Optimus!::_

_ ::Megatron!:: _

 

Primus above. He was  _ alive _ .


	10. No Surrender

_ ::Megatron!:: _

_ ::Are you injured? Where are you?:: _

_ ::My helm’s been severed from my body. What do you think?:: _

Megatron could not resist the dry comment, expecting the Prime not to find it in the least bit funny. He was safe enough for now, the pitiful scientists studying his data banks well occupied with their minor breakthroughs.

He'd only shown them a glimpse, and they took it as leaps forward. Pitiful little critters. Megatron would never be capable of rousing an ounce of sympathy for them. He’d seen too much of what humanity was capable of.

The humor drained out of him immediately though, because he’d have to tell Optimus exactly what the filthy organics had done.

_ ::I’m on a limited data network. I can’t access the location. This...my helm, my brain module...KSI, drones. The sparklings...they took them. I can’t feel them. I can’t feel you. I can’t feel anything.:: _

He barely kept the panic at bay, though he couldn’t control his spark from pulsing its unfiltered, unmitigated fear to his bondmate.

 

Optimus resisted the urge to roll his optics just barely.  _ ::I have your frame with me. It’s in my trailer.:: _

_ ::I can feel you. You’re… distracting.::  _ He wouldn’t tell Megatron that his spark had been broadcasting terror and panic nonstop throughout this month. He had enough to think about on his own.  _ ::...three of the sparklings are dead. Two of them, the ones who hadn’t developed yet, are dead. And they… whoever took you… used one as a decoy. They took out your tracker and put it in him. I found him.:: _

He sent the memories of the incident to Megatron. Particularly the part with the train, and the subsequent mess with the humans.  _ ::Something is wrong. NEST has been disbanded. We are working on finding you.:: _

 

Megatron remained silent for a long moment, his terror turning to wicked anger and keen sorrow for the losses they’d endured. His offspring, murdered by humans....if he had his frame, right now, he’d break out of whatever was keeping him and eradicate this human plague. How dare they take the lives of Cybertron’s youngest hope for a future? How dare they attack helpless sparklings?!

Especially the two runts that had been clinging to him even when his helm was severed, they were no threat, they didn’t even know how to defend themselves.

The rage was beginning to singe the edges of Megatron’s mind.

_ ::KSI. I am at a KSI facility. I can’t narrow it down, and I can’t access where they keep the sparklings. But I know they’re here somewhere,  and I dread to think of what the humans are doing to them. We don’t have much time, Optimus. Find me.:: _

 

_ ::Soundwave is working with us. Can he locate you through comm?::  _ Considering just  _ who _ the communications officer was, Optimus wouldn’t be surprised if he could find Megatron using two wires and the static on the radio. 

KSI… KSI. Where had he heard of them before? They were totally new to him. Quietly, he pinged for Soundwave’s attention.

_ ::I assume you can comm with Soundwave?::  _

 

_ ::...Yes. He’s going to use this as a relay. To identify the network.:: _

Megatron’s signal became fuzzy with static, his spymaster intruding and commandeering the frequency in order to locate the lord he continued to be so loyal towards.

Megatron didn’t let it deter him from continuing his conversation. He’d been alone in his head for a month now.

_ ::They’re trying to build us, Optimus. That’s why they took me. They want to build transforming drones so they can combat us and each other.:: _

He’d keep quiet on the fact that he had let the humans have access to some information from his mind to build over a dozen drones already. One touch of the matrix and they may even gain sparks...and right now, they were almost ready at Megatron’s command.

 

_ ::I am not surprised.::  _ The human version of an arms race was still miniscule in scale, compared to Cybertron in the latter years of the war. Making drones was an obvious step –  just one step away from an MTO, really.  _ ::Do you know how many of these drones they’ve produced?:: _

It was clear now. Even if all of humanity was not their enemy, the ones who were were too strong to be ignored. Optimus couldn’t trust this country, nor its government. Trying to involve the people of another nation would only drive hostilities further. His hopes of a peaceful exchange between his people’s and Earth’s were dashed, if not completely obliterated.

A little regretful, he turned his attention back to Megatron. _ ::I do not blame all the humans for this. This is the work of those in higher positions.:: _

 

_ ::Does that matter? Humans allow this sort of governance to run their species. They are cruel and vicious. They deserve to wipe each other out.:: _

Megatron’s spite was clear and he made no effort to hide it. Twice now, he’d become subject of human experimentation. Twice now, he had to watch helplessly as lesser creatures took parts of him to build their own weapons and technology, stripping from his frame, his mind, without an ounce of mercy for a being as sentient if not more than them.

_ ::They killed our sparklings. Our _ **_sparklings_ ** _ , Optimus. They’re going to kill me the longer it takes for you to find me. How can you still spare them a merciful thought?!:: _

 

_ ::You were allowed governance. You have killed. And I have forgiven you the same, because you were not the one who deliberated it. Unless you would like me to believe you and the Fallen were one and the same?:: _

Optimus held little patience for Megatron’s none-too-subtle warhawking. He had enough of violence to last him a lifetime. Now, he only wanted to gather his resources and people and  _ leave _ .

_ ::No more war. Don’t make me oppose you on this.::  _ Because Optimus would, no matter how much it hurt.

 

_ ::...Just don’t leave me here.:: _

For once, Megatron wished Optimus could simply be angry about the same things that enraged him, but their temperaments had always been vastly different. Easy to anger and passionate, that had been Megatron from the beginning. The Shivelli, the Quintessons, anyone who ever dared approach Cybertron’s borders without a declaration of peace had been met with suspicion and quick retaliation. It was Megatron’s duty and nature to put their species before anything else.

_ ::I want to leave this wretched planet and its wretched natives. Optimus...I have a week. Then my energon will be completely depleted and I have to shut down my helm systems. You have to find me.:: _

 

_ ::We are trying. But we must think of what happens  _ **_after_ ** _. What will be done once you are back?:: _

They needed to leave, of course. But they needed tech, and energon, and so many things that they simply did not  _ have _ .  _ ::We won’t survive a war of attrition with the humans. They have numbers, resources, all of it, on us. We will sooner die of starvation than succeed in fighting back against just the United States government. You said Shockwave was coming. Do you know where he is?:: _

Perhaps he could contact Lennox somehow. Even a few humans on their side would help level the field. A human could move where no ‘bot could. Optimus saw their advantages, where Megatron’s anger blinded him.

 

_ ::I cannot. Soundwave can. They have been bonded for a long time. Soundwave, relay what you know to Optimus.:: _

They may disagree on humans, but the notion of sustenance and potential technical expertise arriving in the form of his most accomplished scientist and engineer couldn’t come true fast enough. Shockwave would be hard-pressed not to destroy half of this planet in his search for resources, but that was just another incentive to retrieve Megatron. Certain Decepticons were very uniquely loyal to the former Lord Protector, and Shockwave numbered among them.

_ ::There are drones here. Completed, running on something not unlike energon. When you come here...we should remove them from human custody.:: _

Not to mention that Megatron knew exactly how the materials had been gathered. From isolated, hunted Cybertronians that had been killed for human scientific advancements. Despicable, disgusting little organics.

 

“Shockwave: will be arriving in one human month. Soundwave: cannot tell exact location.” Soundwave sounded as he always did –  faintly electronic, monotone as ever. Despite his flat exterior, he was hard at work and Megatron’s channel buzzed with their communication.

Optimus frowned slightly. It was better than nothing, but it still was… well, it was  _ little _ . There was no guarantee that Shockwave could really help them. Not to mention that they didn’t  _ have _ a month.

_ ::I’m gathering the few humans I know I can trust. If Soundwave can locate KSI, they can infiltrate better than any of us. With their aid, we could extract you and the sparklings without too many casualties.:: _

 

_ ::It is heavily guarded. These humans do not trust each other. And they kill each other. This research clawed from my mind is world-changing for them, Optimus. They will not hesitate to kill each other or your allies for it.:: _

Megatron wouldn’t even mind, but his Prime would be thoroughly disappointed and lose the little faith he had in his bondmate if he didn’t disclose this information. And Megatron had vowed not to lose Optimus again. Not when he had the smallest of chances to redeem himself in the optics of his beloved.

_ ::They’re keeping the sparklings in a laboratory without surveillance. I can’t see them. Or sense them. Hurry, Optimus.:: _

The transmission cut out, though Soundwave had gleaned enough to get a location. Halfway around the globe, somewhere in China. KSI had moved swiftly, as far from the Autobots as possible.

 

_ ::Don’t worry. I am coming, and KSI won’t touch us again.:: _

There were a few planes in the human world that could carry all the Cybertonians. A jumbojet might work, but where would one  _ find _ something like that? It had to be stolen, no question about it. Perhaps only a few of them could be taken along, to minimize the load. Soundwave would be able to pilot the thing remotely, so the only thing left was…

“Soundwave. Contact Captain William Lennox.”

If there was anything certain in this world, then it was that no military easily disbanded. NEST had to have some jets on hand, and the paperwork for processing their dispersal could take as long as a year. If they moved fast, they might be able to snag one.

…

As it were, William Lennox was currently cooling his heels in his country home, feeling distinctly unsettled. His hearing had gone fairly well, but the quiet way he’d been shifted off NEST and to non-active duty for the foreseeable future disturbed. Something about it was  _ wrong _ .

He flipped the channel again. His wife was off at work. His daughter was at school. Without his own job to fill his days, Will could only languish at home watching shit television and wondering what happened. Mearing had said the Autobots needed to relocate after the attack –  understandable, that, but what was strange was Ironhide’s silence. He and Will had something of a friendship –  an understanding at least –  and he wasn’t the type to just up and leave... was he?

His phone buzzed and Will reached down to slap at it.

“‘Ello?”

“Captain Lennox, this is Optimus Prime speaking.”

“Oh. Oh!” Will hastened to set his beer down. “Optimus, I haven’t heard from you in a while. Settling in well?”

“No. I think you misunderstand, Captain. We were not relocated. After NEST was disbanded, our rights of residency were revoked. As of now, Captain, we are currently illegal immigrants on US soil. And we need your help.”

Now, Will was glad he put down his beer. Spilling it down his front would be unprofessional. “Okay. Okay, start over from the beginning. I need to hear this.”

 

 

The conversation, overall, only took half an hour. Within that timeframe, Optimus laid out everything from the attack to his hearing with Mearing, and Will wanted to hit something once it was done.

“This isn’t right. You shouldn’t be… they shouldn’t have done this.”

“I understand, Captain,” Optimus sounded as grave as ever. His tone was patient, but Will could hear the paranoia in the undertone. “We need your help. We have to retrieve Megatron from the organization KSI. They are in China. NEST had jumbojets, correct?”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t know where they are. I’m non-active. They’re not going to let me authorize the use of a  _ mop _ if they can help it.”

“We were hoping for less legal channels than that.”

Will’s eyes widened. “You want to  _ steal _ a jet?”

“If there was any other option, I would take it. This is vital, Captain. We need your aid now more than ever.”

“...okay. Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Captain.  You have done us an immeasurable service.”

The line went dead and Will collapsed against his chair, hand on his eyes. After a while, he called someone else.

“Listen, Epps, I need a favor…”


	11. Return to Me

In two days, the Autobots had their jumbojet. It was, however…

“This is scrap,” Starscream said bluntly, staring at the hulk of metal before them. “Can this thing even stay in one piece in the air?”

“It was the best I could do,” Will said, a little defensive. He was back in his uniform, arms crossed as he watched the ‘bots examine the jumbojet he’d procured on a private airstrip in northern Wyoming. “Getting  _ that _ out here was hard enough. State of the art tech is going to be  _ noticed _ .”

Honestly, the only reason why he’d managed to sneak this one away was because it was going to be taken to Washington to be taken apart. But the Autobots didn’t need to know that.

“It’ll fly. That’s all you need.”

“It is better than nothing,” Optimus said, trying to remain optimistic. “Begin preparations. We fly out tonight. Captain – “

“I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t need to. You have done enough.”

“NEST was disbanded, and my government is against you for some reason. None of this is right. Let me help.”

“...very well, Captain. Join Ironhide and talk to him on preparations.”

As he watched Lennox walk, Optimus felt something warm in him knowing that not all humans were truly against him and his.

_ ::We’ve secured our transport, Megatron. It’s only of matter of time before we find you.:: _

 

_ ::...:: _

The line didn’t break into anything but static, and somewhere across the world, Megatron silently pleaded for his mate to understand that time was of the essence and they were no longer operating without human interference.

_ ::Thank you for the warning. We’ll be sure to send you a gift basket.:: _

KSI may not know whom exactly they were contacting in turn, but the transmission had been enough of a clue to know that whoever Megatron’s head had been calling for help could not triangulate his location just yet, and that the facility needed to be moved as quickly as possible.

In Optimus’ trailer, Megatron’s spark shuddered under an onslaught of mind-dulling pain.

 

_ No. _ Blind panic tore through Optimus for a few, spark-stopping seconds before he took it back under control. It came from Megatron’s channel, yes, but without his usual electronic signature. The humans in his head must have realized he’d been communicating with the Autobots. 

They no longer had the luxury of a week.

“Autobots, take-off has been shortened to an hour. We need to hurry. KSI knows we’re coming.”

…

The flight to China was not without its disturbances. Three times overall, missiles tried to interrupt them. Soundwave had diverted two into space and the third had been sent careening uselessly into the dark ocean below. The mainland was coming in fast and they needed to move  _ quickly _ . Soundwave had located Megatron, but he was moving. There was no clue as to what happened to the sparklings.

“ETA to China is two hours. Buckle up and hustle, guys.”

“Prime.”

It was Soundwave who spoke. Optimus looked up from where he’d been examining his sword. “Yes?”

“There is a signal from a ship. Autobot distress.”

His gaze sharpened. “Show me.”

Soundwave did.

After a pause, Optimus nodded. “Divert us to these coordinates, Soundwave. We may have some more firepower to gather yet.”

The Dinobots were here.

-x-

Optimus wouldn’t find him.

Megatron couldn’t access the network anymore, could barely feel what transponders he had implanted upon the drones. They were being moved with him. Ah. So the humans must have some sort of idea that Optimus was on his way, and aware of what was at stake.

Clever, horrible little organics.

Megatron could feel the limitations like leaden weights on his mind. Firewalls, proxies, they were trying to isolate his access everywhere. So they must have found his level of activity and their mistakes of hooking him up to their servers.

Too bad. He’d activate the drones and set them on an irrevocable kill command. They could wipe out half of the planet before the humans ever figured out how to destroy them.

But...his sparklings. He couldn’t unleash his wrath just yet. His sparklings had to be somewhere.

What remained of his sluggish mind, Megatron focused on breaking the newly placed security protocols around him. He had to find them.

 

Grimlock wasn’t the most steady, comfortable steed, but Optimus wasn’t complaining. Soundwave reported two transports heading opposing directions. He, Bumblebee, and Swoop chased that one, while everyone else went after the second one. They were rapidly gaining, but the humans noticed them as well.

“Faster,” he urged, kicking Grimlock to hasten him. His steady lope transformed into a sudden charge. The road was crunched apart under his pedes as he raced to catch up to the transport. Gunfire spattered around them, but Swoop was drawing their rocketfire and Bumblebee was ramming at the transport, forcing their aims to shift.

With a  _ shhhng! _ of metal, he sliced away the roof of the transport, much like he’d done with the train so long ago.

“Megatron!”

With a leap, he was in the truck. It swerved dangerously under his sudden weight, but Optimus was already grabbing the crate within and grabbing hold of Grimlock’s spines to clamber on again. The crate was heavy.

Optimus, suddenly, had the vivid imagining of how spittingly mortified Megatron must be at this entire situation. His head had been stuffed in a  _ box _ .

“Megatron, can you hear me?”

 

The crate was rattling around, his helm heavily tipping from side to side. Megatron’s dignity had disappeared a long, long time ago. At least the last time the humans had hold of him, he’d been frozen entirely, impressive in form and height. Now? His damn helm was in a damn crate and judging by the voice from outside, Optimus had simply retrieved him now.

“I can hear you.”

He spoke, muffled only because he was currently laying on his faceplate. Would the indignities never take an end? 

“Get me out of this box.”

And back to his frame, hopefully, so he could unleash hell on Earth.

 

The crate broke apart easily enough under Optimus’ harsh grip. They’d taken the trailer with his frame along for the ride, reasoning that the sooner he was on his frame, the better. Judging by Megatron’s current ire, Optimus was right.

He yanked Grimlock back by one of his spines. “Autobots, retreat!”

They weren’t here for a protracted struggle with the humans. The faster this was done, the easier. And the less Megatron’s current indignation.

“I’m subspacing you.” Megatron was going to be  _ really _ angry after this, Optimus could tell. He could almost feel his blistering anger radiating off him. Without giving him a chance to protest, he was subspaced.

Optimus picked up his sword, already wondering how to placate Megatron after all this. Being used by the Fallen was one thing. This? This would hurt his already battered pride into a mere stub.

-x-

Megatron was just about ready to convert his helm into an explosive and let it ruin Optimus’ subspace for the rest of his life. He couldn’t feel what the Prime was doing, or hear his thoughts or comm link even, since he was busy keeping himself functional, but words were going to be had once the ‘battle’ was finished.

_ ::I swear to Primus I will end every organic species in the universe if you don’t take me out of your damn subspace this instant Optimus!:: _

His first coherent transmission was lined thickly with the kind of anger that had made Megatron such a vulnerable target for the Fallen in the first place. Enough was enough. Captured by humans, twice, humiliated, scavenged, taken apart, stuffed into a crate and now into his Prime’s subspace like a datapad...Megatron’s patience had dwindled to non-existence.

 

Wisely, Optimus chose not to argue. He ignored him instead, until they were well away from the humans and hurrying to the bit of highway that they’d been using as a temporary airstrip. Human reinforcements weren’t due for several minutes at least, letting, Optimus swing off Grimlock with little trouble. The Dinobot didn’t bother asking for instructions as he loped towards the jumbojet in the distance, transforming into his root mode as he went.

When the coast seemed clear, Optimus carefully pulled Megatron out of his subspace, taking care to grip him by the neck and cheekguards.

_ ::I need both servos for my sword and holding onto Grimlock,::  _ he commed quickly,  _ ::My subspace was hardly my best option either. Nonetheless, I apologize. Your frame is on the transport. Once inside, we’ll get you fused back together again.:: _

His field was a little contrite anyway. Even Megatron didn’t deserve the last few weeks.

_ ::If it’s any consolation, all the sparklings have been recovered and await us on the transport as well.:: _

 

_ ::So they’re alright...:: _

That was one of Megatron’s primary concerns, and it fell away from him easily. He trusted Optimus, without doubt, not to be lying to him, especially not on the topic of their offspring. It was a little weird to be looking up at the Prime though. Megatron’s optics flared a little. It was even stranger not to be capable of body language or gestures.

“Do I want to know where you found Dinobots? Or how you managed to ride around on one, or is that all secret Prime information?”

 

“They had a ship. Crashed in China. Offline until we recovered them. Soundwave helped.” They were halfway back to the airstrip now. Their need for discretion kept the area dark, and Optimus was only lit by the soft glow of his biolights.

“They listen to force. I forced them to listen.” He wasn’t going to go into the stark details of how wrangling Grimlock around. It could be passed over through plugging in, anyway. 

He stroked Megatron’s cheek. “It’s good to have you back.”

And because he still felt like he owed an apology, he pressed a light kiss on him as well.

 

“It took you long enough,” Megatron grumbled softly. At least his forced stay with KSI had him distance himself from the defeated, broken mech he was after his surrender. Anger at organics for mistreating him and his species did a heck of a lot to build Megatron back up, at least a little.

Regaining his defiant nature and boisterous confidence would be pivotal if they needed to bridge the divide between Autobot and Decepticon and find a way off of this planet.

“I trust you’ve kept my body well. Stroked it tenderly at night?”

 

“It’s not the same without the helm involved.” Megatron was impossible to keep down in any capacity. One way or another, he sprang back up, ready to take on the world with his denta bared. Still. A ghost of a smile threatened to inch up over Optimus’ face.

“I’ve come to some understandings in the time you were gone,” he explained. They reached the threshold of the jet, and Optimus ducked his helm low to pass into the cargo hold. “After all, living in the wilderness waiting for results leaves one plenty of time to think.”

Megatron’s frame had been stowed away in the corner within the trailer. Optimus opened, it and stepped inside. His headlights illuminated the space.

“One. I don’t think I’ve been quite nearly as afraid as the day you went missing at any other point in my life.”

He stepped closer, placing the helm down where it was meant to go. Kneeling, Optimus began to work on getting things connected. A secure hold would be done under Ratchet’s purview, later.

“Two. I missed your voice.”

The main fuel pump and spark lines were connected. Everything else was extraneous reinforcement and cabling at most.

“And three. What  _ exactly _ have you been up to while KSI had you?”

If he knew Megatron –  and he did, he knew him as well as someone knew the inside of their sparkchamber and the grooves of their T-cog –  then Megatron had done  _ something _ . And it was something that Optimus would disapprove of.

 

Twisting his helm was a relief, even if Megatron had to be extremely careful not to dislodge any of the loosely made connections. Feeling his frame meant syncing with his spark again, and the former Lord Protector had to take a long moment to do that, optics dim, bond filled with controlled, muted emotions that fluctuated between relief and anger. 

Only when Megatron gently assessed the way his emotions had been draining into Optimus’ spark without restraint did he feel guilty again.

Oh, and there was that accusation too. Of course he’d done something. Being an idle, helpless prisoner wasn’t really on Megatron’s agenda and he doubted even Optimus could blame him for interfering and meddling with his captors.

But they didn’t have to get right down to business, did they? Couldn’t they enjoy each other’s company for even a moment before it was all about the future and survival and the dire reality of being stranded on a hostile world?

“What were you afraid of?”

Megatron asked quietly.

 

The question caught him off guard. Optimus was guilty of sometimes forgetting this was the Megatron of a four million years back, not the one he’d grown accustomed to. He was… smarter, in this way.

“Losing you,” he said, honest. “Losing my way. Being forced back into another war I don’t want.”

He couldn’t stay in here for long. It would raise brows, among his soldiers. Even if he’d cited difficulties with reconnecting Megatron’s helm, this was not the place for a long emotional talk. Optimus pressed into their bond, conveying his exhaustion, and kissed Megatron a second time. It felt better, being able to feel his helm and spark back in the same place again.

“Let’s talk about this later,” he muttered into his audial. “Your Decepticons are waiting.”

Straightening, he offered his servo for Megatron to pull himself up. Quietly, Optimus noted how Megatron didn’t actually answer his question. Answers would have to be pulled out, one way or another.

 

Megatron’s servos, no longer the spindly claws, easily closed on Optimus’ offered digits and didn’t release the Prime immediately once he’d gotten up. Reconnection didn’t take all that long, especially not for a warframe like Megatron, but he’d keep one servo on his helm nonetheless.

“Waiting for what exactly? An answer? An address? I thought I relinquished command to you when I surrendered, Optimus.”

Had his decepticons been causing trouble? Disobeyed the Prime? It would be excessively stupid of them not to see that the next step in that direction was extinction. There was no more time for petty division in Cybertronian ranks. Megatron was going to get his helm screwed on tight and then resume his command if anyone (Starscream) could be so stupid in his absence.

 

“I think they would be further reassured to see you. Soundwave is, we both know, exclusively loyal to you. And Starscream certainly… respects you more than he ever will me.” Obedience had been for survival and for Megatron strictly. Without his presence, Optimus knew that obedience would fracture sooner or later.

“If we are going to make out of this alive, I need you next to me.” With a tug, Optimus pulled his servo out of Megatron’s servo. As familiar as it was, they needed to break the news in portions. His Autobots had enough shocks for at least this year. Their long lives granted them the long ability to hold immense grudges as well. Forgiveness for Megatron’s actions, no matter their cause, would be slow.

“Coming?” he called, from the exit of the trailer.

 

“Yes yes.” Megatron was well aware that he had not been entirely open with Optimus. That he had kept some vital information from the Prime regarding KSI and their drones. But he had not yet lied about it, nor did he intend to keep it to himself forever. His age of deception was over. But just like the Autobots, Optimus needed to be told in small amounts. So as not to overwhelm him, as it were.

“You will, of course, eventually have to confess to your troops that some bonds are not broken despite war. The decepticons would not see such as a weakness in their leader.”

But of course, the Decepticons used to fear and respect Megatron. Now? They probably clung to him as the only avenue to lead them towards any kind of future.

 

“I will. But not now.” It was less weakness, and more betrayal. Megatron, to them, was still The Enemy. Not many would –   _ could  _ –  be as forgiving as Optimus had proven.

They moved into the open. His Autobots were flocked to one side of the jet, leaving the Decepticons on the other side. For this, the two fliers had opted to stay inside the jet. Soundwave and Starscream both quickly shuffled over to Megatron, turning their backs on Optimus.

He let them have this. If Megatron knew what was good for him, he would not betray Optimus’ trust this time. “How long until we reach Wyoming?”

“ETA twenty hours. The others are expecting us. Things seem calm for now.”

 


	12. Top of the World

“Why are we still moving with humans?” Megatron growled, recognizing the nature of this transport. Wasn’t the murder of their sparklings enough motivation for Optimus to give up hope in his organic pets?

Speaking of sparklings, there was a tremendous wail as the five remaining little mecha scrambled towards their carrier, recognizing him as safety in the presence of humans. Optimus had not exactly been around to nurture their fragile fears away.

Megatron didn’t lose an ounce of dignity as his offspring clambered onto his frame, finding nooks between his armour and shoulder guards to nestle themselves without hindering his movement. Almost reminiscent of how deployers housed their symbiotes. Soundwave seemed particularly paternal, opening his steady field to his lord’s sparklings which gave them reassurance. 

The Decepticons were a ragtag bunch, rallying around Megatron slowly.

“What is your plan, Optimus? I am in no mood to further indulge human cruelties.” Megatron was, by nature, confrontational, but this was not defiance. This was merely asking for clarity from his Prime.

 

“Soundwave is continuing to work on figuring out the extent of KSI’s network. Wheeljack is to aid him. We return to our temporary base in Montana. From there, we will continue to keep our cover until Shockwave arrives with further reinforcements. With the addition of the Dinobots, our resources are too thin to be stretched any further than what is strictly necessary for basic functioning.”

_ ::I need to talk to you about this anyway.:: _

At least Megatron didn’t seem inclined to oppose him to any great degree. His Autobots reluctantly accepted the state of affairs as it was. Even Starscream wasn’t obstinate enough to look at their meager supplies and entertain thoughts of planetary conquest.

“Until then, at ease until we arrive. Soundwave, report?”

“Situation: optimal. Reconnaissance: shows no human weaponry around. Cover: stable.”

 

“Cover?”

He’d missed a few beats, apparently. Megatron didn’t want to count his blessings before he had a full grasp of the situation, but Optimus made it sound like he was ready to depart from Earth, rather than make it his home. Perhaps he wasn’t too many steps removed from being convinced that Earth’s resources should be stripped from the hands of the native sentient creatures.

_ ::And here I thought humans were your _ **_friends_ ** _.:: _

 

_ ::Not everything is so black and white. KSI is my enemy. But that doesn’t mean humanity is my enemy.::  _

He moves into his own corner, and his shoulder brushed against Megatron’s briefly.  _ ::Don’t push me on this, Megatron.:: _

He fears the mech will, anyway. Hopefully, it wouldn’t extend to a fight. The sparklings chirped at Optimus, and he glanced at them. One tried to skitter to him, but he gently pushed him back to Megatron’s plating. The sparklings were more his than theirs, really. Their rush for him had proven it.

 

Megatron, in time, would teach Optimus just how and why sparklings needed a receptive parent to cling to, but for now, the Prime was a little too buried in their overall situation to worry about it.

_ ::I will not. But KSI does have drones the size of you and I and an energon substitute they’re running those engines on. I still have access to their network, and I made sure the drones are not functional without my direct command. Wouldn’t want to give humankind a new weapon of mass destruction to play with, would we?:: _

Well. Megatron would, but out of respect for Optimus and his willingness to die for humanity, he had applied self-control. Just barely.

 

Oh. That was far less sinister than Optimus had feared. Warmth bloomed across their bond.  _ ::Yes. That is a good idea. Our influence on the humans must have a limit.:: _

Direct command, though. Now  _ that _ worried Optimus a pinch.

_ ::Do you suppose these human energon creations can be turned to our favor? With a little engineering perhaps…:: _

 

_ ::A little engineering by an exceptional engineer. Yes. I think obtaining the drones and their energon substitute will be a key objective to our survival. If you’d rather, I can have Soundwave relay this information to you...in a couple of hours. So it doesn’t look as if you need to depend on me.:: _

Megatron didn’t change his expression at all, but he did happily welcome the warmth of Optimus across the bond. Rewards like soft affection were well worth the lack of seeing humans destroy one another with drones beyond the scope of their control.

_ ::You will lead both Autobots and Decepticons to survival, fuel and home. It’s the best way to reunite our people.:: _

 

_ ::I don’t want to take credit for what work  _ **_you_ ** _ have accomplished. I appreciate the sentiment, Megatron, but this was all you. There is no way any of us would have found out about the drones, or the human energon, if it weren’t for you taking the initiative even as their captive.:: _

And now, it was Optimus who wanted to touch him. Longing for physical touch wasn’t anything new, but one this strong certainly was. He settled for the bond instead, curling around his bonded’s calmed spark like a content cat around someone’s legs. 

_ ::Seeing you working to bridge the gap would help unite our people. It would help when I announce my… intents.:: _

Co-ruler. Bonded. It was still distant, but Optimus could hope.

 

_ ::You don’t understand, do you my noble Prime?::  _ Even across the bond, Megatron could chuckle. He accepted Optimus’ weaving into his spark, he even spiralled it open. Anything he could have of Optimus, he would greedily devour.

_ ::It is easier to unite people under the guidance of one. I surrendered to you. I deferred to you. The Decepticons trust me, but do the Autobots trust you not to merely tolerate, but embrace? I doubt it. Yes, you needed my help. Yes, this was all me. But I put it in your servos, because you have the better grasp. The peaceful intention. I do not think my Decepticons would believe me even if I drilled it into their helms that I want peace.:: _

 

_ ::It would send the best message to see that even you have converted. The Decepticons will always chafe under my leadership. They will question me. But if they can follow your example…:: _

Their bond was fully open and fond affection bounced between both of them. The dearth of contact was more apparent than ever now, and Optimus’ yearning grew into something sharp within his chest.

_ ::If it were easier to follow one, then why have we ever had a Prime and a Lord Protector? We balance each other. Neither side should submit.:: _

 

_ ::You’re unbearably reasonable. I want to kiss you.:: _

Megatron made an artform out of flooding the bond with entirely inappropriate waves of desire, all without losing a single grain of control over his expression or field. The sparklings seemed content to babble at him, to lounge on him like their personal, towering taxi. 

_ ::Fine. We will present ourselves as equals, and everyone will recall that were always and continue to be bonded. That’s rather more public of you than I anticipated, but I certainly approve.:: _

 

Optimus faltered under the sudden deluge, and tripped over his pedes. It was a hasty grab of the wall that kept him from toppling pede over helm, and he sent a sharp look at Megatron for it. He managed to look dignified despite it, as if he hadn’t planned that, the glitch.

_ ::Megatron!::  _ Optimus had a certain talent for squeezing in disapproval, indignation, and surprise into three syllables. There was a corresponding flash of intrigue at the notion, but it was ruthlessly squashed until Optimus’ razor focus replaced it.

After a brief moment to resettle his plating, Optimus continued his communication.  _ ::Not quite so fast. We solidify the truce as an actual peace, and us as allies. Give people time to be comfortable working with Decepticons and vice versa. Once our respective soldiers aren’t ready to pick up their guns at the wrong twitch, we take the next step. Friendly. Respect. Romance. Rushing it will spoil their opinions of us. Then once people recall that Primes and Lord Protectors tend to be bonded, coming out into the open won’t be a nasty shock.:: _

It was a good plan. Two centuries down the line, and Optimus could see it all come to fruition. Now, Megatron’s  _ patience _ on the other hand…

_ ::They will wonder if we lost our minds if we even walk too close together. We’d lose all credibility as leaders if they ever saw affection. Give it time.:: _

 

_ ::I think you underestimate their memories.:: _

Megatron couldn’t fathom that they could work together without making it obvious that Prime and former Protector were anything but hated enemies to one another. Even now, Megatron could feel nothing but poorly repressed desire for his bondmate, and he allowed it to rush across their bond in hot, demanding pulses.

_ ::But very well. Let us wait and see. Perhaps a peaceful exile together will lead to more intimate encounters. They’re certainly needed across both sides of this...conflict.:: _

Although not everyone had been as strictly chaste as the two leaders of this war. Megatron knew plenty of Decepticons that lived, loved, fought and died together. Shockwave, Soundwave, Momus, Sherma...love was not beyond any of them. 

 

If Megatron thought trying to cozy up to Optimus by being demanding was going to work, he was dearly mistaken. Optimus barely glanced at him before his end of the bond turned ice cold. Megatron had always been impatient for everything, but he refused to be pushed any further than his personal limits. The other mech could deal with that.

_ ::I think you underestimate mine.::  _ After their reunion, Optimus noticed his servo twitch to his sword more than twenty times. It bothered him, this instinctive turn to violence, but it was under control, at least. He kept it away from Megatron. There was no need to hurt him like that again –  unless he called for it by pushing Optimus too hard. There was still a whole ocean of memories for him to dip into to remind Megatron, after all.

_ ::We can only hope. Primus knows they need it.:: _

Things were looking up. As long as their cover was intact, they would manage to consolidate some manner of peace. The longer the ‘cons and ‘bots were in proximity, the further the trust would grow. Proximity, however, also meant the death of privacy.

_ ::Honestly, Megatron. Pinging me is no use. We’re never going to have a spare moment to ourselves, and I’m not going to play a useless game with you.:: _

 

_ ::You had a moment for me when I was crippled, as I recall. The very first night.:: _

Megatron withdrew his burning interest, but left the bond wide and open and inviting, even as his transmission turned a little bitter. He even sent Prime a sample of the desire they’d both felt, an echo of Prime sinking into Megatron’s valve with bliss, no matter how fraught with guilt the action. If he was completely ruthless, he would have offered an audio recording too, but he knew that would only aid in turning his mate from him faster.

_ ::I look forward to when that happens again. You always look your best when you’re ferociously impatient.:: _

 

_ :: _ **_Enough_ ** _.:: _

He shut his end of the bond off. It was a little cruel, but so was Megatron’s teasing. Didn’t he understand that there really was no way for them to fool around like that? NEST had, at least, provided them with the semblance of privacy. The temporary base was lucky to have a flat area for someone to recharge on.

And because Optimus was bothered, and angered, he sent the brief urge to kill Megatron he’d experienced then too. The refusal to do so followed, but the same urge, echoed over and over, had continued despite his forgiveness. It was instinctual, really, to search for the opportune moment. He wasn’t going to be pushed because Optimus knew that if he allowed even an inch, Megatron would rush him towards a mile.

He shut the bond off again, this time with an air of finality. Then he went to sit among his Autobots, away from Megatron and his Decepticons.

_ ::You will wait a long time.:: _

 

_ ::We will see.:: _

The former warlord yielded to the will of his mate, instead looking to spend time in the company of the Decepticons. Soundwave would be capable of adjusting any loose cables, and giving him a status report on each of them. They all looked to be in good health, and Megatron had not expected any less of Optimus than to care fairly for all mech under his command. It was good to know he hadn’t given up on any of the traits Megatron valued so highly, so far.

The pain of losing sparklings, however, was something he had anticipated and still would reel from. Out of the thirteen he’d managed to get through all hardships, only five remained. They would not leave his side for an instant, and Megatron made no effort to wean them off of his frame at all. 

It also put an end to his amorous mood, and he was happy the bond was closed for the moment, only allowing the slight trickle of each spark assuring the other was alive.

Autobots and Decepticons didn’t regroup to mingle. Not once did the ‘cons look towards the Prime and his people, and their mood reflected their notion of rejection this coalition. On the transport, and when they eventually touched tire in the ‘new’ base, they stayed behind Megatron, flanked him when he stopped, and looked to him for answers.

It was only three steps from open hostility.


	13. Dance with the Beast

Optimus refused to let the state of armistice last. He moved among the base freely, subtly encouraging his Autobots to follow suit, and glared down anyone who moved towards violence. He engaged all the ‘cons at least once each day, trying to bridge the gap whatever way he could. Starscream was always glad to listen to his own voice, and the two tanks didn’t seem to mind his polite questions. Barricade was still chilly, however, and Soundwave set up a blank wall of professionalism that froze the Prime out as effectively as any physical barrier.

And of course, he and Megatron always talked. Not so much in the open (though he tried to make it visible to the troops), but always over comms. It was idle chatter, or planning, or discussing the state of their camp. Ratchet had overseen Megatron once more, despite some grumbles, and announced him fighting fit. Tension settled over the camp at that, even when Megatron proved peaceful.

It was Bumblebee who began the first efforts to reach out. The tanks seemed to accept his overtures with cautious wariness, but it was better than nothing. Optimus tried to encourage it as best he could.

Within no time, a week had best. Spirits improved with the news of reinforcements and possible new energon sources, and the camp kept peace.

It was with this that Optimus’ next brilliant idea occurred to him. A possible way to encourage further trust.

_ ::Do you still have your sword on you?:: _

_ ::Subspace. You always were terrible at disarming. Why?:: _

With their daily conversations, the rift felt a little smaller. Megatron still allowed the Autobots to keep him within a specific area. Something Optimus could oversee, but Megatron wished they could recharge beside each other. He missed the idle noise of Optimus’ engine, close to his audial, within a lazy reach. That kind of trust, however, was difficult to display.

The question caught him off-guard and the sparkling he’d been playing with, Orion, promptly smacked into his helm and whined.

The warframe grumbled an apology and his offspring brightened, clambering atop his helm.

_ ::I won’t reforge it for parts. I do have some pride left.:: _

 

_ ::I didn’t mean that. How about a spar?:: _

It was a little risky, but the camp was boring and a show of trust was needed to break past the barrier that kept everyone mum. A few, friendly spars could be the key to opening the floodgates. Boredom could either break the barrier, or set off the powder keg, and Optimus was no gambling mech.

He drew his own. It shone in the sun, glimmering, and Optimus ran a digit down its edge. The one he had as Prime on Cybertron had been much lighter –  decorative, really. He’d never needed it. This one was much closer to Megatron’s in design, with a thicker hilt and wider blade, and bloodied. This was no decorative ceremonial piece meant to hang at his hip for looks. It was a weapon, forged and ready.

_ ::Like we used to. No body contact, victory at first tap.::  _ It had been one of their first lessons. The ability to use a sword cleanly and lightly. Of course, their later feats belied that, but it was a good lesson in control and precision.

 

_ ::A spar without contact. I suppose you’re trying to encourage some friendly cross-faction interaction. Very well. Just let me convince Orion to recharge.:: _

Caring for the sparklings had fallen squarely onto Megatron’s shoulders. He didn’t know if Optimus just didn’t dare (in case any oblivious spark still didn’t see the resemblance in the blue and silver little frames) interact with them, or if he just didn’t know how. The lord Protector swore to himself he would introduce the finer points of parenting to his bondmate. 

_ ::Make sure you’re warmed up. I’m not rusty.:: _

 

_ ::Oh please. I daresay I’m better at the sword than you by now.:: _

He moved towards somewhere away from the camp’s basic little structures. A few of the mecha around noticed him with his naked blade, and perked up, intrigued. With a low bounce in his gait, Optimus readied himself.

_ ::Anytime, Megatron. Best three out of five?:: _

 

_ ::Already conceding the first rounds to me? You’re quick on giving up, my dear Prime.:: _

Megatron didn’t need to draw his sword to gain attention as he strolled away from the base. He left Soundwave behind to guard the sparklings, now piled a cute little bundle and recharging together around Ravage, who had grown to be very possessive of them all.

When Megatron drew his sword, his Decepticons perked up. Finally, a form of entertainment they could truly appreciate.

Megatron gestured for the Prime to come towards him with a subtle smirk on his lips.

 

Optimus chose to wait a moment, assessing his opponent –  then darted forward. Back in the day, he’d lost to Megatron more often than not. Fighting hadn’t been his area of interest then, and he hadn’t possessed Megatron’s endless talent for the martial arts. Now, however, he moved like a seasoned warrior.

His sword thrust out for a simple swing, testing Megatron, getting used to him in a way that wasn’t in a fight to the death. Expecting him to fight the same way in their youths was asking to lose.

 

Fighting was his nature. It was his duty to protect Cybertron and the Prime. And regardless of how horrendously Megatron had failed that task in the past, he was still one of the most skilled combatants of their species.

And still well in practice for a spar, though he had to fight down the instinct to go for a kill rather than practice just reading movements. He was no longer the enthusiastic, hungry and eager young trainee that Optimus had first met. He was hardened by war and death and his skill forged in endless battle.

“Come now, Prime, I’m fully repaired. No need to give me an advantage.”

 

“I didn’t realize you were so eager to be beaten.” Slipping into their teasing was strange for Optimus. And from his looks around the camp, it’s strange for everyone else. He shook it off, and Megatron’s parry as well. Slipping around in him a circle, he stabbed for his leg.

“Rushing might cost you, Megatron.”

 

“Reprimanding _ will  _ cost you, Optimus.”

Megatron took advantage of each turn of battle, however small and dishonorable a maneuver, he was never afraid to execute it or use it to his advantage. Such as Optimus making sure to aim for something as non-fatal a target as Megatron’s massive legs. The warframe took the opportunity to force the brunt of his frame against the Prime, throwing him off-balance which resulted in a blade slicing through air until it came to a stop, right over Optimus’ spark.

“Fight like you mean to kill me. That shouldn’t be too hard, hm?”

Megatron’s smile was soft, his control absolute. Not one part of him wanted to see Optimus dead, or hurt. He remembered too well how it was to thrust his blade through the spark of the mech he loved.

 

The Autobots tensed, servos straying to their weapons. But Megatron held still, and Optimus, after a beat, said, “One out of five.”

He waited another beat, staring. Then he was batting aside Megatron’s sword with his, pushing him further out with a suddenly aggressive motion.

_ ::I would prefer to train myself out of the urge, than encourage it.:: _

Megatron was a behemoth of power. When he used his sword, you  _ felt _ it. In comparison, Optimus, slighter in frame, had a slight bit of speed to his advantage. With this, he ducked under one of Megatron’s swings and stopped behind him, the edge of his blade sitting on Megatron’s shoulder, flat to his neck. Even in victory, Optimus refused to follow the violent implications. It was for Megatron as much as it was for himself. He did not trust his control.

“Equal one. It’s serious now.”

 

“Is it? I see your competitive side hasn’t waned.” 

Megatron flicked the blade off of his shoulder and turned, desperate to grapple Optimus’ frame, and just barely keeping himself in line with what they had agreed on. A true spar would see him utilize every weapon, not just his sword, but Optimus had offered this challenge and Megatron adhered. This time, he waited for a much longer time to make his move, sliding the blade along until it almost touched Optimus’ servo. He jerked it aside and stepped forward, bring the sword up to the Prime’s helm this time.

“Two to one. Your move.”

It was like a dance. An old dance that they both struggled to remember, that served as so much more than a mere exercise. It was about their self-control and trust and all of it was on display.

 

It would be simple to follow his example and point at the lethal areas. Optimus refrained however, as he parried his sword and circled him, watching for openings. The trinity had always been Megatron’s favored spots. Optimus, in a hint of daring, slipped around him again, forcing Megatron to keep turning to keep him in sight.

“Neither has yours.”

He rolled under, taking advantage of Megatron’s greater height and in his crouch, his sword rested at the joint of Megatron’s hip, poised to slice it off and disable his whole leg.

“Equal two. Have I improved, or have you gotten worse?”

 

“You’ve improved.” Megatron actually laughed at that, and he could see how the sound unsettled the Autobots in the audience, though they seemed to slowly be growing used to his presence by now. Slowly. He still had a long road to travel until they would no longer flinch at the sight of him.

“You’ve become more than any Prime could ever claim. You don’t even need a Protector.”

Megatron went for a strike, only to find it parried, and in turn, Optimus made a move he could read in advance. They circled each other slowly. The intent to kill was obscured by memories, at least for Megatron, and his engine growled loudly, demanding energon on his claws.

 

They circled, then met in the middle before being shaken off with a flash of orange sparks as their blades kissed and rebounded off one another. Optimus shrugged away the power behind Megatron’s strikes, but found himself stymied by his solid defense. This would be the deciding strike that would decide the winner of this round. Distantly, Optimus could hear someone cheering for him.

The perfect reply hung at the tip of his glossa. It was a terribly sharp attack to level on Megatron. It would certainly throw him off. Optimus considered it as he watched Megatron keenly.

In the end, he set it aside. It would grant him a win, but that was not the point of this match.

_ ::A Prime always needs his Lord Protector.:: _

He struck, aiming for Megatron’s abdomen. Non-lethal, always non-lethal.

 

Megatron saw the blow, and knew that he could block it. But for the sake of dramatics, he did not. Optimus’ blade merely slid over his plating, leaving the thinnest of scratches in his old paint, but it marked the victory of the Prime. 

But truly, Megatron felt as if he’d been the one to gain something, in the words of Optimus. He may struggle with his affections and the state of everything between them...but he had not given up on Megatron. Or their...whatever lay between them.

“I’ll demand a rematch when I’m not so sluggish with recharge, hm?”

Megatron offered his servo out as he transformed his sword back into components of his arm. He always was fond of grand gestures.

 

“Three out of five,” Optimus said, automatic. He paused in his victory, before sheathing his sword and taking Megatron’s servo. His grip was firm and tight, and Optimus’ optics narrowed suspiciously.

“Perhaps.” It was vague enough to satisfy their audience. Now that the entertainment was gone, the more capricious members drifted away, possibly into their own little matches.

_ ::You threw the round.::  _ It annoyed him, for some reason. Why did Megatron have to be so needlessly self-deprecating? His win wouldn’t have detracted anything.  _ ::Don’t do that.:: _

 

_ ::You really don’t know how to read an audience. Still. Optimus. Teaching my Decepticons gracious behavior is worth throwing a sparring round in your favour. You may not know this about Decepticons, but they do look to me for guidance. On everything.:: _

Because raising sparklings, surrendering to Prime, being captured by humans all didn’t take away from Megatron’s extraordinary willpower. Because Fallen or not, he was still their leader and took responsibility for them. Optimus may command the Autobots, but Megatron dictated the lives of those that chose to follow him.

 

_ ::Then don’t do it in the future. I wanted to actually spar with you.::  _ It made sense, so Optimus wasn’t piqued, but still…  _ ::I don’t want everything we do to be performance.:: _

It’s a difficult balance that Optimus wants. Balancing between the performance and the truth was risky enough, but he still  _ wanted _ it.  _ ::...good thinking, anyway. Hopefully, it will have an affect on them.:: _

He squeezed Megatron’s servo again, before withdrawing. This close, he could hear the hum of Megatron’s frame. It was calming, but it was too close. With a regretful pang, Optimus stepped away until a good space lay between them.

_ ::We should do this often. It’s… relaxing.:: _

 

_ ::Next time we should drop the no contact rule. Fencing is for mech living in luxury.:: _

Instead of leaving, Megatron stepped closer. 


	14. Who we Are

Maybe he just needed to hear Optimus’ engine for a moment longer. Maybe he wanted to watch the Prime’s faceplate in motion, just for a little longer than what Optimus allowed, and wanted.

Besides. He could hear the sound of clashing metal. Bumblebee, trying to overtake one of the tanks in altmode. It was almost adorable, but more importantly, it was a sign of progress. And that their example had proven valuable to their goals.

_::I miss hearing your engine purr for different reasons.::_

 

Optimus vented, frustration piling up enough to make his engine growl in displeasure. _::I’m not rolling in the dirt with you in front of an audience.::_ He valued his privacy intensely. With how many people demanded his time and attention, having something for _himself_ was an intense drive for Optimus. Besides, public displays went against his style. Even back on Cybertron, Optimus had refrained from anything more drastic than hand holding.

His annoyance spiked as Optimus took another, pointed step backwards. _::Persistence isn’t going to gain you much here.::_

 

_::Alright. Have it your way. You’ve gotten much better with that sword of yours.::_

Megatron was not a patient mech. He never cared for who saw them back on Cybertron. As a bonded pair, everyone ought to know what lay between them, and crave for something similar. Megatron knew Optimus had a problem with his privacy, but respecting it was going to be another challenge he needed to measure up to. For now, he withdrew, field, bond and physical presence, transforming to roll back towards the edge of the clear space they’d engaged for their little sparring session. Others seemed encouraged to fill it up.

_::But they do know the sparklings are yours, correct?::_

 

...did they?

 _::I never thought to ask. No one has asked me anything.::_ Perhaps Ironhide and Rachet might. But they were no gossips. The younger mecha might have no idea that the sparklings they occasionally played with when the ‘cons weren’t looking were the shared offspring of the two leaders. _::Does it matter?::_

He kept apart from them. It didn’t bother him much. They occasionally toddled over to him and Optimus amused them until they grew bored with him. He wasn’t as openly affectionate as Megatron, and discouraged climbing.

_::Some might. Your Decepticons?::_

 

_::There’s no doubt that they do. The sparklings cling all over. No one is foolish enough to think they aren’t mine, with my lenience towards their behaviour.::_

And their parentage was all too obvious, in the finials, their colour schemes, the slender legs and bulky torsos. And yet, the decepticons, for all their rough edges and selfish agendas, did not hold it against the young mecha to know they came from their worst enemy.

_::You should spend more time with them. They do need you. They need your spark, your trust.::_

 

 _::You are the better caretaker.::_ They felt too fragile for him. Optimus didn’t enjoy the weight they placed on him –  the sudden, spark-deep terror knowing that _these_ were possibly the last sparklings alive. The sparklings he and Megatron had. Getting too close was asking for disaster. The three deaths had threatened to shatter his control. If he’d been closer, it might’ve wrecked him as much as Megatron had.

They were small and delicate and needy. They wanted copious affection Optimus didn’t dole out, contact Optimus shuddered at, and communion he’d refused himself for a millennia. He would pat them, encourage them, protect them… but that was the extent of his willingness to step in.

 _::They like you more.::_ Megatron had never been content with privacy. He exulted in the sparklings. They were a source of fierce pride for him, and Optimus would let him have that –  all of that. He wanted no involvement.

_::They have both. They are getting on well.::_

 

_::You don’t let them near you. Optimus, you hold them at arm’s length. I can understand when you apply that same stalwart distance to me. I have...done enough to earn it. They have not. They’re all we have left. They need you. You’re their sire. What good mecha can I raise alone, when you refuse to get to know them? They’re sentient. They know you reject them. You will not even recharge with them next to you. You’re hurting them, and they don’t deserve it.::_

Megatron was capable of caring for the sparklings alone, but with Optimus so close, for them to see, hear and touch when he let them, was maddening for the little mecha. Their spark frequency matched only Megatron and Optimus. They knew that, and it broke the last of Megatron’s short fuse to know they felt inadequate because their sire rejected them.

 

 _::It’s not rejection,::_ he protested limply. It sounded lame even to his own audials. But how was he supposed to explain that Optimus had trained himself so thoroughly to mistrust those that his spark had the most in common with? The sparklings were little pieces of Megatron, parcelled up into breakable packages of innocence, and Optimus didn’t trust the twitch of his servos when they moved too suddenly.

He wouldn’t kill them. He would rather die. But he didn’t trust himself. Dreams had long ago stopped mattering. If need be, Optimus could recharge with sixteen mecha piled around him. But Megatron’s field –  or anything similar –  made him recoil when his mind wasn’t fully awake.

 _::I try. But I’m not like you. I can’t do what you do.::_ He imagined trying to be like Megatron in his most broody moments around the sparklings, and felt something in him cringe.

_::...they can recharge near me. But it is their choice.::_

 

_::Optimus...how about you try to recharge near me, and them? That way you’re not stifling their fields and they’ll actually fall asleep. No one has to see. You’re stealthy when you want to be, right?::_

This time it wasn’t a ploy for the Prime’s attention, but genuine concern for the way the sparklings wailed for their sire almost every night. It may even solve more problems than just their insatiable need for affection, but Optimus’ layers of icy defenses had been built up thickly for millennia. Still. They had to start somewhere. Especially now that the only future they faced was one they shared in equally.

 

_::If I can explain it, it doesn't need to be stealthy. Letting people know about the sparklings isn't a bad idea.::_

Something prickled uneasy at the idea of sleeping near Megatron, but he pushed it down. It was for the sparklings, who were more important than his discomfort at trust.

_::Ratchet would understand. Same with Ironhide. They can settle everyone else.::_

The thought occurred to him, just then.

_::Try not to get too close to me. I don't know what might happen.::_

 

_::I’ll see you for that. And I mean it Optimus. They need you.::_

Megatron, as much as he loved a spectacle, was much too protective over his offspring to leave them alone for long. Although Soundwave was a careful guard for his sparklings, the protector’s primal instincts were to watch over his brood himself. Still in his alt, he drove away from the newly christened sparring ground, fully expecting Optimus to disappoint him on this venture.

 

He watched Megatron move away –  likely to where the sparklings were. He probably expected Optimus to do the same. He glanced around, hoping something would need his immediate attention and divert him away from this. Nothing came up.

With a vent, he transformed and followed Megatron towards Soundwave, albeit in much slower fashion. He could hear them chirping as he drove closer, voices bright and bell-like.

“Thank you for watching them,” he said to Soundwave, bowing his helm a little. The mech looked at him blankly, seemingly accepting his gratitude wordlessly, before turning his optics back on the sparklings and the symbiotes rolling around together. As he stepped closer, however, their attention turned to him.

Megatron had been boasting about their language packs. Could they talk already?

_::Do they… speak?:::_

 

_::Some. Though not much beyond claiming to be hungry.::_

Megatron transformed but for once, did not offer his sparklings to come climb on him. One of them did anyway, and he was a remarkable little copy of Optimus, limb by limb, paint chip by paint chip. The only striking difference were the red optics and the less than confident manner in which Orion moved, mostly clinging to his carrier’s leg.

The rest of the sparklings, four in total without Orion, were eyeing Optimus curiously. They obviously recognized him, even approached him, but continued to wait for approval. They would not befall their sire, who so rarely allowed them close.

 

What was he supposed to do now? He was here, they were there… Optimus knelt, and offered a servo to them. His field reached out for them as well, trying to grow used to the way it meshed in with his.

“Most of them look like you,” he commented. They had Megatron’s thickness of limb, and the jagged spiral of plating around their joints. Some even had the helm shape down. Their colors were more of an even mix, but Optimus could understand why someone who didn’t want to see the truth could live in denial. This brood resembled Megatron more, save the one he currently held.

Two scampered onto his servos. Little digits dug under his plating as they scrambled up and Optimus held still, letting them use his frame like a fancy bipedal jungle gym.

_::Are you pleased?::_

 

_::Are you?::_

He was, but Megatron reserved any praise until he saw Optimus indulge in his role fully. The sparklings that had braved his frame were chirping happily when they nestled against his neckcables. Their fields were nothing like Megatron’s, they weren’t capable of so strong a projection.

The remaining two slowly clambered into Optimus’ hands and stayed there, acquainting themselves with him and softly asking for a link into his field. Everything sparklings did was at a diluted frequency tied directly to the sparks they echoed. Megatron had long since accepted them like parts of his own frame and Orion was nigh inseparable from his carrier. Even now he only dared to speak to Optimus when he had a secure position on Megatron’s shoulder.

“Nini?”

 

“Hello,” he replied, solemn. There really wasn’t anything else he _could_ say. He touched his siblings around his shoulders. “Can he say a word? His name?” he addressed Megatron.

He still regarded them distantly, wondering at the little lives he held. They were precious things, and their infinite potential threatened to humble him. A sparkling may as well be as delicate as a human –  or perhaps moreso, considering their mental ages.

 

“Yes.” Megatron lifted a servo to prod his sparkling, which prompted some wriggling and a little binary laughter from Orion who clung to his carrier’s finger.

“He’s just as obstinate about this as you are.”

Megatron lifted the little frame from his own and held him out to Optimus. Not to his shoulder or kibble, but to his face, which Orion grabbed, determinedly, before resting his little helm entirely against his sire’s cheek.

“Orion.” The sparkling whispered, as if it was a secret.

Megatron could only watch with soft indulgence.

 

Megatron’s familiar tone made Optimus send Soundwave an uneasy glance. He suspected the communications officer knew more than he let on, but did Megatron really have to make it so evident? Then the sparkling was clinging to him, to his _face_ , and Optimus really had no time to be wondering about how much Soundwave knew about him.

“Oh,” he said dumbly, staring at the little one clinging to his face. Then he shifted to his shoulder, joining his brothers. “Orion,” he repeated, still a little taken aback.

“It’s a good name.” _::He has more of your spirit, even if he looks more like me. I assume you named him?::_

 

_::I did. He was always the most curious of them all.::_

It just hadn’t happened yet. Megatron was waiting and waiting for warmth to blossom in Optimus, for him to understand the fortune they’d had that their sparklings had survived for this long, but the Prime was still awkward, barren of attachment. Parenting did not come naturally to the usually so gifted mech. It baffled Megatron, and it made him feel horrendously guilty. War had stripped Optimus of his nurturing, softer aspects.

It was senseless to keep going in circles, to blame himself for the past, but when Optimus was this stoic mess, it was difficult not to remember.

Orion didn’t care, finding a nice space on Optimus’ shoulder. The sparklings were the size of humans, for now, and quite adept at clinging and climbing.

“Optimus is a good name too.” the little mech said as he held onto his sire’s neckcables.

“Optimus!”

“Optimus.”

“Optimus?”

The other sparklings traded the name back and forth like a game of catch.

 

“Yes, I am your…” he paused on the word, and glanced around again, making certain no one was eavesdropping. Everyone still seemed occupied with their own distractions. “...sire.”

He petted each of them again, letting them play as they willed. Now that they knew they had free reign over his frame, they didn’t hold back in their roughhousing. Optimus clamped the sensitive parts of his frame down and let them have the rest, keeping his field over them like a loose, placid blanket that any of them could tangle into if they wanted. Where Megatron effused affection, Optimus was… there.

He could tell this wasn’t what Megatron had hoped to see.

 _::You raised them well,_ :: he tried, trying to placate Megatron’s melancholy.

 

_::I barely had them survive.::_

It was almost saddening, to watch Optimus, completely incapable of connecting to his own offspring. Of course he treated them well, he let them do as they pleased and he offered them protection, but he was definitely fearful of having them become important as his offspring, not just as the future generation.

_::Maybe you’ll be more attached to them once they can converse with you. I have a feeling they have a lot of questions. They have your inquisitive mind.::_

And Megatron’s near insatiable hunger for exploration. And currently, conquering the frame of their sire.

Soundwave had, politely, turned from the scene. Though he and every other Decepticon was hyper-aware of the parentage of the sparklings. Nevertheless, they didn’t hold it against them.

_::We have to get back to Cybertron. When Shockwave comes...as much as I would relish Earth’s destruction, the sparklings deserve a home. A real home.::_

 

_::I concur with the latter thought. Leave Earth as it is.::_

The sparklings swung around his cables. One by one, however, bored by his inaction, they began to move away towards their carrier instead. Optimus let them go. _::Barely is still better than none. The Fallen has done much to harm us. I… apologize for not being available to aid you.::_

Could he have killed Megatron –  or tried –  knowing he carried?

Something whispered that he probably would. Could. It was a sobering realization.

_::I wasn’t present for much of their development. They probably don’t have that much of a connection to me. It’s a miracle that they even resemble me, at that point.::_

 

_::They came from your spark. Your presence now will give them stability. I had a very extended gestational phase.::_

He also had a much more numerous batch of sparklings, millions of years ago, that had been reduced to these few remnants, which had endured the war in stasis. He was amazed he had any sparklings left at all, since they had been under the eyes of the Fallen and Starscream. Megatron suspected Soundwave had had a large role to play in the survival of his sparklings, and the spymaster had his eternal gratitude for it.

Megatron vented, plating flared as steam poured out. He didn’t like remembering what had happened once his sparklings had emerged. How the Fallen had ‘culled’ his offspring, and Megatron, helpless to stop him.

The sparklings migrated back to him, sensing his distress.

_::You didn’t know, did you? I kept it a well-guarded secret, that I was carrying. I didn’t want you to worry about my participation in the Shivelli war. Ridiculous, isn’t it? I wanted to prove...that I was the right choice. As your Protector.::_

 

 _::It was a foolish decision. You endangered them, and yourself.::_ He could not blame him for the Fallen, and the way the sparklings had died afterwards. But prior to that, that was all Megatron’s pride speaking. _::You never had to prove anything to me.::_

It was a little strange how Megatron’s pride could be so adamantine and fragile at once. It protected him, but it provided a fatal flaw in his character.

_::Perhaps things could have been different, had you told me. I would have forced you away from the frontlines.::_

 

_::I would have returned to them even without your sanction. I was eager to prove myself a capable warrior...even more so if you were worried for my safety.::_

Dangerous arrogance had been a constant companion in Megatron’s life, and he no longer sought to avoid it. Now that he was older, wiser and experienced, he knew how to deal with it. But back then? He’d been a gung-ho young hothead who wished to impress his lover and co-ruler as well as their old teacher through prowess in battle.

_::I will not say I wasn’t foolish. But I did have reason enough to act as I did.::_

 

 _::Selfish reasons.::_ The Shivelli war was well in the past, but it was a bad memory all around. _::What would I have done if you died? At that point in time, I would have died myself. And Cybertron would have been closer to falling than ever.::_

Their planet had had a few close calls. It was only a little ironic that her own people were the ones to bring her downfall for good.

_::Besides. You proved yourself time and time again. You had always been better than me back then. More people liked you when we’d been students. And after being made heads of state::_

 

_::Not according to Sentinel. I was never good enough in his optics. For you, or for being the Lord Protector.::_

Megatron may have been the better politician, the popular choice, the people’s favourite (since his Prime was such a quiet absentee), but he’d never been marked as worthy by the mech whose opinion he had valued for almost all of his life.

Only when he bonded with Optimus and took up officially as the Lord Protector did Megatron stop caring about what Sentinel thought.

_::It doesn’t matter. None of it does. And although you previously would disagree with me about the past not mattering, we have nothing but the future. Our offspring will have a planet to call home and rule. That, I promised them when they emerged.::_

 

_::Our past provides the wisdom to stop mistakes before they are made. Sentinel was a harsh teacher, yes, but it’s not as if he didn’t have my fair share of critiques from him. He always said you had a double dose of everything I lacked.::_

The last of the sparklings fled him and clambered onto Megatron with secretive little giggles into his audials.

 _::And if you recall,_ **_I_ ** _was the one to pursue_ **_you_ ** _.::_

 

_::I like to recall that. Now and then. You were aggressive. You wanted me, and you would not take no for an answer.::_

These were memories stooped in pleasure for Megatron, because he could recall each day, each visit, vividly. Optimus had been a relentless suitor, and flattered his brother with his eager attentions. Surprise had waned and been replaced by a mad, fervent desire for one another.

Megatron shifted his frame, the sparklings all peering at Optimus expectantly. Their little fields were anchored in Megatron’s, permanently, but they flickered open and inviting.

 

His field wrapped around him again, gently rejecting the invitation to come closer the same way he’d rejected Megatron over and over again. _::I made a decision. I followed through. It was a success, I must say.::_

Megatron had a lot of hopefuls and admirers, back then. But Optimus had an uncommon persistence that made him last. Megatron’s fierce reciprocation had surprised and pleased him. It had been good, while it lasted.

_::I understand why you were chosen to be trained to be Lord Protector. You had always been different.::_

 

_::Different...to what? The previous lord Protector? That was not difficult. Proteus was incompetent. Lazy.::_

Megatron had sought to restore the reputation of his position as a fundamental strength of their species, not a leech letting their Prime do all the work as they toured distant galaxies. Protector Proteus had been a blight on the face of their society and when he perished, Sentinel had taken over their combined duties rather than choose a new mate.

Maybe that was one of the reasons Megatron had been so impatient and ambitious.

_::So. You made the decision to fall in love with me? That’s exemplary self-control, I must say.::_

 

_::Oh please. You know what I mean. You were different than the rest of us. I don’t think I ever met anyone who managed to pull in a whole room of people by simply walking in. There was never any question to who would be the Lord Protector. Me? I was the quiet one who read datapads during parties. I didn’t laugh at jokes. Did you know Zeta was the popular choice to be the next student? It was after he snapped and tried to blow up a hall that I was picked.::_

He wanted to roll his optics at Megatron’s oblique refusal to catch the point. Optimus settled on the ground and drew his sword to examine it for nicks and scratches instead. It was more habit than anything else. It also gave him something to do with his servos.

_::I hardly made the decision. I already knew there was only one option. I merely made the decision to actually do something, rather than pine. I wasn’t going to be another admirer in the background.::_

 

_And where is that desire now?_

Megatron didn’t ask. Optimus was willing to linger for a conversation, and if Megatron made one wrong move, one suggestive turn of phrase, and the Prime would distance himself again. Treating Optimus with such velvet gloves was a very, very new experience for both of them.

_::I liked your lack of flattery. You approached me, and you...well. You were impressive in your own ways. You still surprise me to this day, which is a good thing.::_

If only there weren’t millennia of hatred for each other to conquer, they may even have had a chance of rekindling the love that had moved half of Cybertron when they announced their bonding (much to Optimus’ bemusement, a public ceremony was common).

 

_::Ah, yes. My impressive ability to navigate the Archives of the Ancient without getting lost really was a show-stopper.::_

He’d saw no reason to flatter Megatron. He was impressive, yes, but he could make stupid decisions as much as anyone. Optimus told him this fact rather often. Megatron didn’t seem offended –  rather, the opposite.

 _::Perhaps it was my willingness to bail you out of whatever trouble you got yourself into. Or my habit of getting kicked out of council rooms for speaking out of turn.::_ It’d happened painfully often in his youth. Optimus, for all his quiet, had been one of the most vocal speakers for social justice among their peers. _::Remember the time you held the doors against the Senate’s security team so I could yell at them? We nearly lost both our helms that day.::_

 

_::I was never more attracted to you than when you chewed them out for private indulgences funded out of public sources. I think I lost my spark to you right there and then.::_

Megatron could well recall just how they’d made use of the shared cell that the Senate’s security had thrown them in. Oh, they certainly hadn’t minded. Fighting for what they believed in, together, trusting each other beyond the measure of anything, it had been an eventful youth for Prime and Protector. Megatron wished he could go back and tell his younger self to indulge and enjoy, deeply, because that time went away far too quickly.

_::Or that time you helped me expose the inconsistent fuel rationing for miners on Luna 2. I think I was ready to bond the instant you looked as offended as I.::_

 

 _::We were a good team. The best.::_ They’d overhauled nearly sixteen thousand moral injustices on their own in their first century of rule. Improving society had been their shared, obsessive goal together. Together, they’d been unstoppable and immovable. It had been as close to perfection as reality could get.

_::Do you ever wonder what your younger self might think of you? I know I would have been disappointed.::_

 

_::...Are you trying to attempt humor, Optimus? There’s no way my younger self would come to terms with the atrocities I’ve committed. I killed our home, I killed our people, and I have killed you. A younger me would have rather been melted for scrap than do any of that.::_

To be perfectly fair, his current self was feeling much the same, but Megatron was also not fool enough to think his death would ensure the Cybertronian future. Much the opposite. To half of their species, he was still the leader they looked to. To the Decepticons, he was still the lord protector they’d once admired, then grew to fear.

For his sparklings and for Optimus, Megatron owed his life to making amends.

 

 _::I only meant it in abstract ways.::_ It was still a poor question, made in bad taste. _::I would have been horrified by myself. Such a long time pacifist, turned into… this? I would have thrown my sword into a black hole.::_

Reminiscing was partly good, and partly painful. The two of them had had good memories, that was certain. It was just their present that made those memories so painful to hold close.

_::And, I think, I would have been disappointed in myself for ever daring to stop loving you. It’s… hard to describe the intensity I felt.::_

 

Megatron wanted to beg him to try, or stop altogether. Every word from Optimus regarding their lost love was an active reminder that he, Megatron, had been the cause for its disappearance. The fact that he didn’t have a choice didn’t matter. The fact that Optimus was still here almost didn’t matter either, because the Prime rejected any notion of intimacy and returning to what they once were.

_::Even the Fallen couldn’t make me stop loving you.::_

The warframe’s optics flickered, and his field, previously so comfortably knitted into Optimus’, pulled back defensively.

_ ::I wish it was so simple as in our youths, when I could have stopped you and told you my intentions. I want to.:: _

Not even Optimus could spend so much time on his sword. He sheathed it and walked away, not looking back. His comm still continued anyway. Physical distance had nothing on the figurative distance between them.

_ ::Don’t take this for an attack, or bitterness. It isn’t. I think that you deserve the honesty I have to give.:: _

“I’m going for a drive,” he told Ironhide. Command transferred to him, and Optimus transformed and drove away, leaving the camp and Megatron well behind.

_ ::I admired you. Most of us did. I thought you were one of a kind –  and it wasn’t because you were well liked, or because you fought well, or because you were handsome. They were factors, but there were a dozen others with similar traits who were closer to my league then. It took me a while to figure out what I thought was so wonderful about you –  the day I studied astrophysics was when enlightenment graced my way.:: _

The further away he got, the easier it was to lay it all out. He’d never told this to Megatron back then –  it had been terribly embarrassing to confess. Now that he was disconnected from the keen need to impress Megatron, it didn’t matter.

_ ::It was your ambition. Passion. It’s hard to quantify –  it was whatever drove you to succeed, whatever forced you to always be the one to take the lead. It inspired me. And so, knowing why, I wasn’t content to simply watch you. I had to know you. Which was why I accosted you for the first time, outside the archives, and kept going. I’m a scholar at spark. You know this. And you know that when something catches my attention, I must study it.:: _

His wheels hummed over dirt. It was comforting, even if the roads weren’t smooth like asphalt.

_ ::And now you wonder why I draw away from you, and from the sparklings. I am not the scholar you once knew. I am not the pacifist you once knew. It’s because what drew me to you so much, once before, is now what makes me suspicious. I still daydream of the best way to kill you. My mind knows you are not my enemy, but my frame and spark is not so quick to understand. This distance is necessary, moreso for your sake than mine.:: _

It was easy to say it all. Now, he could only wait for Megatron’s reaction. As he drove, he went a little lighter than before. The weight on his chest hadn’t been removed, but he shared it now, to the only person who needed to hear it.

 

_ ::You think I would allow you to harm them? Or me?:: _

It wasn’t so much accusation as it was disappointment, coming from Megatron. The physical distance did nothing to lessen his burden, or the reality that Optimus did not trust himself or his bondmate to make anything work between them. 

_ ::I don’t expect you to be as you were. I am not half the mech I was back then. But I think that you and I...we’re still as deeply connected. And the only way we will get past...or even to a remotely acceptable level with each other is to be close to each other.:: _

Patience. Time. Did they have the luxury to let all of those wallow as they needed to?

_ ::I’ll be here when you return. Recharge next to me. Let your sire protocols dictate your level of aggression. You’ll see it’s not so difficult.:: _

 

_ ::Promise to not touch me while I recharge.::  _ Bridging his discomfort would come slow, and awkwardly. Megatron, so far, had shown great patience –  occasionally. But he had a tendency to bite off more than he could chew… it was his way.

_ ::...thank you, as well. For understanding.::  _

_ ::I’m not losing you again. I don’t care how long it takes for things to change between us.:: _

But he wouldn’t have their sparklings miss out on substantial time spent together with their sire. Megatron sent a wave of gratitude to Optimus, who needed just as much reassurance as his babies.

_ ::You gave me a chance. I am only doing the same.:: _


	15. Don't look back

Trying to grow closer was a slow, cumbersome journey together. Optimus found himself discomfited, but tried to overcome the obstacle of his own distance. After a while, it grew easier. By the time Shockwave was due to arrive, he was almost used to having a sparkling on him at all times.

“Soundwave said Shockwave would be arriving soon.” Optimus scanned the sky, as if searching for the mech. “Has he told you any further?”

 

As a matter of fact, he had. Soundwave was never a very talkative mech, but he was a dutiful and loyal follower who trusted Megatron above all. Of course he’d given him more information than the Prime would ever be privy to.

Megatron glanced at Optimus, currently playing host to Ultimus and Cephei. These two sparklings looked like pitspawn in Kaon, with their jagged, silver frames and small imitations of his helm. They were particularly fond of their sire who had slowly, over the past weeks, become a much more available option to his offspring, even recharging close enough for them to touch his kibble and rest there.

“Shockwave is already here. On Earth. He is retrieving the energon substitute as we speak.”

 

His helm whipped around, forgetting the sparklings in an instant. He only remembered to keep his voice down to a reasonable hiss.

“ _ What _ ?”

Really?  _ Really _ ? Barely a month into their possibly co-rulership, and Megatron was keeping things from him? “You didn’t think to tell me this before?”

 

“Soundwave relayed it to me this morning. He thought it prudent Shockwave comes bearing fuel, so as not to alarm your Autobots to further Decepticon reinforcement.”

Megatron saw no problem in how his spymaster had rationalised his decision, and Shockwave was extremely competent at retrieval, especially when it concerned something he was personally very interested in.

“I’m telling you now.”

 

“That’s not what we agreed on.” Optimus grabbed Megatron’s arm, dragging him away. He deposited the sparklings on the ground, where they clustered together curiously. Leaning in close, he continued to growl. Using comms just wasn’t enough to convey how furious he was at this decision.

“You had a rogue agent working on Earth without my knowledge. Retrieving the substitute energon –   _ how _ exactly? How many people has he killed? How much damage has he caused? You should have told me the moment he arrived in Earth orbit.”

 

“The only casualties are the humans who slaughtered our sparklings. Shockwave works very precisely.”

Megatron’s expression hardened, the crimson lenses of his optics flared. If Optimus wanted to argue about the morality of sparing sparkling-murderers, he was in for a fight.

However, their conversation would be cut short by a rumble that shook the entire base. The sparklings flooded towards them both, climbing their frames, but they were calm enough not to be scared if their carrier wasn’t. And Megatron merely looked out towards one particular spot, Soundwave stepping out into the open as a momentous, writhing mass of tendrils and maws emerged from the ground, showering the base in an explosion of dirt and sand. 

“There is his method.” Megatron commented. Shockwave definitely had a dramatic flair to him.

The coiling metal encircled Soundwave, before opening a hatch. One fiery optic blazing, Shockwave emerged into the light of day.

 

_ ::This is not over.:: _

Wrestling his anger into control, he shouldered aside Megatron to face Shockwave. The writhing mass of tendrils barely gave him pause as he stopped in front of Shockwave. “I trust you made a safe journey here,” he said stiffly, “and Megatron has told me you have the substitute energon with you.”

From the corner of his optic, he saw Soundwave moving closer.

 

“Affirmative.”

Shockwave surveyed Optimus for a long, long moment, his large optic unmoved by Soundwave approaching or by the continually, writing mass at his pedes. When he lifted a servo, a large container was brought out of the depths of his burrower, the last survivor of its massive, Cybertronian kin.

The container was splattered with organic remains, and the liquid sloshing around inside was an eerily familiar blue.

“This substitute was synthesized out of the remains of juveniles. It requires further refinement before it can serve as fuel.”

Megatron bristled with anger. So it had not just been murder.

 

Something in Optimus’ face twitched. He stared down at the box Shockwave held… and took it. “We’ll put it in the temporary lab,” he said, and found himself distanced from his voice, “Our own scientist, Wheeljack, has his own ideas for working on the further refinement of the energon. Welcome, Shockwave. You will have time to settle in before beginning work.”

He handed off the box, but couldn’t avoid the smear of blood. It was half dried, and the brownish crust freckled the broad expanse of his palm.

“Megatron,” he said, “let Ratchet watch the sparklings. I must speak with you.”

The blood had been too fresh to be old. Shockwave’s kills couldn’t have been older than two days. His arrival had been recent, then. And Megatron had kept it  _ secret _ .

 

The former warlord nodded to Shockwave as he plucked his sparklings off of him, herding them towards the cantankerous ambulance to look after. Not Megatron’s first choice, but Optimus trusted him. And judging by the Prime’s vicious field flares, he was angry about the circumstances of Shockwave’s arrival. The one-optic’d mech meanwhile busied himself with Soundwave, plugging into each others jacks where they stood, their field bristling with content and charge. They needed time to reunite, after all.

Megatron followed Optimus, away from the others, away from the scene of Shockwave’s arrival.

“Optimus.”

 

He kept walking, until they were behind a low hillside that would keep them from view. It wasn’t all that far, but it was where the other ‘bots went to when privacy became a need.

He stood still, waiting until Megatron was close, before snapping around with a vicious jab at his helm. Despite the eruption of violence, his voice was still low. “You  _ lied _ to me,” Optimus hissed, “After  _ everything _ , you do  _ this _ !”

Not content to keep himself to one hit, he tackled Megatron. 

 

“I wh-” Megatron didn’t get a chance at an explanation, because his Prime had thrown himself at him and the unexpected assault toppled the warframe over, landing with a loud crunch of metal on hard ground. Megatron merely raised his servos to keep Optimus still, though if the Prime was furious, that would hardly contain him.

“I didn’t lie. What are you implying? Optimus. Calm down.”

Shockwave had arrived, by his estimation, a day ago. Soundwave had informed him of his arrival this morning. All Megatron had failed to tell Optimus was that Shockwave should, upon landing, make use of his unexpected mode of transport and retrieve the energon substitute with little to no resistance, using the element of surprise.

 

He rolled them so that Optimus straddled his chest. With a flash of his arm, his sword was out and pressed against Megatron’s neck, right where he’d been severed the first time. The weld marks were still fresh.

“I seem to recall the terms of your surrender clearly,” he said, “in which nothing would be kept from me. A lie by omission is still a  _ lie _ .”

He should not have trusted Megatron. Because at the end of the day, as long as Megatron could think and plan, he would  _ always _ be furthering his own goals.

“Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t retract everything and kill you right now.”

 

Megatron stared up at Optimus. This was not the mech he’d known, and loved, a lifetime ago. This mech was suspicious, understandably so, hardened, and cold. Ready to kill him at a moment’s notice. It was terrifyingly spark-breaking to witness. He could have bucked Optimus off of him, he could have defended himself easily. He was repaired, and he was a vestige of warframe power. And yet he did nothing, letting his servos sink to his sides.

“You wanted me to lead at your side. But what you expect is for me to be an extension of you, incapable of decision. You do not need  _ me _ for that. You may as well choose a puppet.”

He was not going to give Optimus excuses for his poor behavior, nor was he going to accept Optimus’ lack of offered trust, despite their agreement to rule together. 

“Nini?”

A few hushed voices from the top of the hill, and a highly embarrassed looking Ratchet, who had one arm full of sparklings, the other reaching for Orion and Cephei who sat on the hillside, optics big and round and terrified.

 

His sword was beginning to slice through tubing when he heard that little voice. It was them. It was  _ them _ . His sword stopped, wavering in its path, and Optimus looked between Megatron under him and the sparklings above, staring down. One –  Orion –  toddled closer, terrible understanding dawning in his optics.

After a long, tense silence, his sword moved away. When he tried to move closer, however, Orion backed away again. He looked like he wanted to get to Megatron, but Optimus’ presence held him back. In  _ fear _ .

“Take them and go,” he ordered, hoarse. Ratchet, startled and chagrined, quickly gathered the two strays and disappeared back behind the hill. But the damage was done. Orion had seen. And Optimus no longer had the fury to keep him going.

“I wanted a partner,” he said, moving off of Megatron, “I wanted to trust you. But you never gave me the chance to.”

Perhaps accepting his surrender had been his greatest mistake. The bond closed off, making Optimus’ end barren and unreadable. He wasn’t attacking anymore, but there was no telling how long the guilt of being seen by an innocent would keep him in line. “You’re fond of making your own decisions. You always were. And I am always the one to fix the mess those decisions make.”

 

“And you’re fond of ignoring what I say, expecting the Fallen to speak through me still.” Megatron stared up at Optimus, this time, with open resentment. Would he never shed the mantle of being untrustworthy? The amount of malice that Optimus attributed to him was staggering, and although Megatron had been patient with his Prime, there was only so much he could stand.

He reached for Optimus’ blade, which had merely moved from his neck, whilst simultaneously unlocking his sparkchamber. What came to light was the warmly orange glow of his spark, whirling with distress, reaching for a bond closed off once more. Megatron poised the blade over his sparkchamber.

“I’d rather you kill me than think I am not on your side, standing with you, for our future. I’d rather you kill me than live one more day with you thinking I am a lying, scheming miscreant. I’d rather die than live like this for the rest of our days, Optimus, with you questioning every decision I make, thinking I would betray you again.”

 

It would be so  _ easy _ . It would be the easiest kill Optimus ever had. Just one step forward could push the tip far enough to pierce his spark and end him for good. He stared at him, at the sword, and wanted to rail at the fundamental unfairness of everything.

“I want to know why you chose to not tell me what you had Shockwave do,” he said. “If you haven’t betrayed me, you would tell me.”

 

“I had Shockwave use the element of surprise in retrieving what could have cost us lives. I didn’t know when he’d come. And I didn’t want him to start with nothing. It wasn’t...ideal. But it was efficient. I cannot believe you would be in anger of the death of humans that clearly deserved to die.”

Of course Megatron knew it wasn’t about them. It was about him, not telling Optimus, seemingly making decisions on his own that the Prime was allergic to.

“It would have been a pleasant surprise if he had arrived with fuel enough for us all.”

Megatron’s voice grew quiet at the end. He still held the blade over his spark, expecting Optimus to rapidly change his mind.

 

“You thought a bloody box filled with substitute fuel taken from our dead sparklings that was stolen without informing me was going to be a  _ pleasant surprise _ ?” Optimus wasn’t sardonic often, but this particular situation warranted it.

He snatched his sword back with an inarticulate curse under his breath. His sword was jammed back into its sheath as Optimus backed away from Megatron. “You could have told  _ me _ ,” he said. “I would have stayed quiet with you. But you had to impress us all, didn’t you? Something tells me you haven’t learned a single thing since the Fallen took you over.”

Too angry to stand being near Megatron, he stalked away to the rest of the mecha. The substitute fuel had been a failure. They needed a new plan. 


	16. Ohne Dich

Megatron didn’t try to contact Optimus this time. Their bond stayed quiet, the mech himself kept to his quarters with his sparklings, who Ratchet was relieved to hand over to their carrier since they all started beeping and wailing at the sight of Optimus. 

Some things could not be repaired, and Megatron knew that better now than anything else. He had to give up on Optimus. He couldn’t make him a priority anymore. They had sparklings that needed him, because Optimus was too far gone to be trusted with fragile Cybertronian life. The survival of their species was simply not important enough to the Prime.

Shockwave and Soundwave remained close to Megatron, communicating without vocalizers, discussing the best strategy to get off of this world.

With the engineer’s arrival, Megatron’s most loyal had been completed and a noticeable divide grew between Autobots and Decepticons, despite Megatron and Optimus’ previous efforts to bridge the rift. Now, each kept to their own. The fuel shortage may be the only part of it all that kept the war from re-emerging. 

The sparklings no longer looked for Optimus.

 

They need fuel badly. So, so badly. But the idea of trying to refine the little bit of energon in the box was too sickening to imagine. In the end, it was put away in storage to be forgotten. When they got back to Cybertron, Optimus would find a way to put it in a place of honor, in memory of the desecration. A reminder.

“We need to leave. And we need energon.”

Ironhide stared at Megatron’s side of the camp, frowning. Optimus caught the direction of his stare.

“We can steal human technology. Within a month, Wheeljack can build us a basic engine to find a galactic outpost. From there, we can recoup and consolidate our resources. As for energon…”

“We would have more if we didn’t share with them.”

“We can’t afford to fight.”

“Why are they even here? We don’t need ‘em. Knowing Megatron, he’s talking about who to drain for extra fuel and when they’ll leave us in the lurch on Earth.”

Optimus didn’t disagree.

He was tired. Part of it was his low tanks –  everyone was a little sluggish now, exhaustion from low fuel dragging at their lines. Most of it was him feeling the pinch of hopelessness around him. No fuel. No way off the planet. No unity. Things were falling apart.

In a way, hope was a killer. The higher you went, the harder you fell.

 

“We could leave if we don’t take them.”

Shockwave had a way of putting things into perspective. Maybe it was his unique vision, or his fresh input on it all, but the engineer was always reasonable. Logical.

Still, Megatron shook his helm.

“No. Cybertron’s survival is in jeopardy if we strand more of our species, we will never acquire enough strength to rebuild.”

Shockwave nodded. The argument was sound. In a way, he was Megatron’s gauge for whether or not he was making emotionally attached decisions or not. If Shockwave agreed? He was making the best possible choice. If Shockwave didn’t, it meant Megatron was letting old emotions get in the way of new lives.

“So the human technology could be used as a base for building this transport?”

“Only if Astrotrain’s specifications were correct. It would be much easier if he was available.”

“Yes. Well. Sadly we have had losses of our own.”

Megatron contemplated the suggested blueprints. The humans had such primitive designs for spaceships, it was almost ridiculous. And this was the best they could work with?

“If we obtain four of these shuttles, what is necessary for a launch? And interstellar flight capabilities?”

“A launching rocket, since this planet lacks the metals necessary to construct a space-bridge. We must construct a ship, launch it out of orbit, and then reach a solar system with sufficient resources for a bridge.”

Megatron sighed, claws scraping over his helm. This would be so much easier if Earth wasn’t so barren of useful technology.

“But I can say, with confidence, that if we obtain these missiles and shuttles, I will be able to construct a ship.” 

That was as cheery as Shockwave could sound.

For the first time in a long while, Megatron used the comms. Not tenderly, not carefully, but blatant and direct.

_ ::Shockwave can build us a ship to get off of the planet. We need humanity’s most destructive weapons for construction. How do you want to proceed?:: _

 

_ ::Only a few countries have nuclear stores. The United States’ supplies may be too heavily reinforced for us. We can try Russia. Drive up through the land bridge. It’ll be messy.:: _

These were the extent of their messages. Short. Cold. To the point.

“Shockwave can build us a ship.”

“So can Wheeljack.”

“We don’t have Blaster with us anymore. Soundwave and Shockwave are better space bridge operators and navigators than any of us here.” Technically, the Autobots had more firepower on their side. But the two officers were the ones holding the key to getting them off the planet in one piece. Wheeljack was a brilliant scientist, but he was no Perceptor. His speciality lay in weapons engineering more than anything else.

 

_ ::Messy is fine with me. I do not care which human country we ransack. But they will not hand it over willingly. They will get in our way. I will let you handle the offense.:: _

Which meant that Megatron would place Soundwave and Shockwave under the command of Optimus, who would, undoubtedly, lead whatever mission he deigned their species was worth committing to.

Megatron was finished with the subject of humanity. He rarely left for anywhere, preserving his own fuel so his sparklings could have their full fill and frolic around with Soundwave’s symbiotes and Shockwave’s monstrous worm.

 

_ ::Understood.:: _

Nuclear armaments, then. Ideally, they’d run a recon on the location and start planning after memorizing the behavior of the place. Because their options were limited, however, they needed to move quickly. The camp would be pulled apart and brought over to Siberia, where they could begin their mission.

“Do we even need to attack anyone?” Ratchet questioned. “We could find one. The humans lose nuclear armament all the time. Since the Cold War, the Russians lost an estimated fifty warheads alone.”

“And go on a goose chase all over the Siberian expanse? We don’t have the fuel for that,” Ironhide replied.

“It’s better than getting into a hot conflict. None of the humans will want to lose nuclear weapons to  _ us _ .”

Ignoring their fighting, Optimus sent another short missive.

_ ::Can any of you locate nuclear weapons?:: _

 

_ ::Soundwave already has.:: _

Megatron transmitted the coordinates, a little smug that he could answer so promptly. Decimated in number and fuel, and his Decepticons still had the edge over humanity with ease. Soundwave had effortlessly accessed the human secure networks, and found what they needed within seconds. What Optimus would do with it was up to him.

_ ::We can begin construction whilst you retrieve what we need. It doesn’t have to be complicated.:: _

Whether or not Optimus trusted him was no longer important except to Megatron’s personal goals, which fell flat in the face of their uncertain future.

And there was one more tidbit of information which should prompt the Prime into action.

_ ::There is evidence of a Cybertronian ship on this planet’s only moon. Your human friends may not have informed you, but Shockwave detected that signal on entry. I will retrieve whatever is useful, since my flightform is restored.:: _

It would burn up his reserves to make an orbital flight, but there was no other choice, and no other flier could carry as much as Megatron could.

_ ::And before you complain that I kept this from you, it would not have been useful without the calculations of the resources we need to gather from Earth.:: _

 

He didn’t rise to the bait.  _ ::Be safe.::  _

Curt, he left it at that. He had his own planning to do. As a hauler, he obviously had to go, with Soundwave tagging to provide cover. Shockwave could begin to basics once they found a good spot in Siberia to land and stay away from prying eyes. Hopefully, whatever Megatron scavenged from the ship would be usable. If they were lucky, perhaps it may even be a working ship with energon supplies.


	17. Funeral Song

He was beyond exhausted. Megatron had given his all into this haul, ignoring the warnings of dangerously low fuel levels, his engine burning as the coolant ran dry in his lines. His frame felt like it was on perpetual fire, his limbs ached, and weakness was starting to conquer him. But not his spirit and will, which had him haul the massive part of an Autobot ship down to Earth. The humans would detect it as a meteor, but Shockwave’s worm had hauled it a long way from its impact zone.

And now, they had half of a Cybertronian shuttle, broken but not useless, lying in the middle of their camp. Megatron could only sit and observe as Wheeljack babbled with excitement, climbing around on the husk. This was their new hope. Megatron had found dead Autobots, a dead former Prime and his failed plan for a spacebridge. What materials he could scavenge, he had, and brought here, at the full disposal.

By the time Optimus returned, spirits were running high in the campsite, and there was a bustle all around the derelict ship of Autobots and Decepticons, working together with renewed hope to find their way home.

 

Finding, and hauling, nuclear weapons out of the perpetually snowy vast wasteland of Siberia was  _ not _ a fun experience. Optimus had icicles running down his chest the entire time as they patiently scavenged what supplies could be found. In the end, their efforts paid off. His trailer was filled with forty warheads, while Ironhide carried the other fifteen. There was more to be found, but Soundwave had deemed this number sufficient.

The moved camp was a little more to the south, where it was warmer, and Optimus vented wetly as he felt the ice creeping up his struts begin to melt. Water puddled around his legs as he went to investigate Megatron’s own haul.

_ ::We have fifty-five warheads with us. What did you bring?:: _

 

_ ::The Ark.:: _

Well, what was left of it. Megatron was proud of his efforts, but he could not do anymore. His frame was scorched from re-entry, his tanks burned from the inside out when the sub-par fuel ignited. Ratchet had confirmed he’d be fine in a couple of days with self-repair, and currently, Megatron was immobile in his alt with his sparklings clambering around on top of him, happy to watch the rest of the camp go to work.

_ ::We can get off of this planet, Optimus. It’s entirely do-able.:: _

Hope crept even into his transmission.

 

_ ::The… Ark?::  _ No way. It had gone  _ missing _ . The Ark was a mystery, a myth, almost, but Optimus couldn’t deny the truth before his optics. He touched the metal of the ship reverently, feeling the residual heat of reentry warm his cool servo.

The legendary Ark, back to them. They could use this for the ship. For a spacebridge. Maybe they didn’t even  _ need _ a ship.

_ ::Could we build a spacebridge instead? With the Ark providing extra materials, it could be plausible.:: _

 

_ ::We don’t have the fuel. A spacebridge can’t synthesize Earth fuel the way a ship might. Believe me, I’ve asked Shockwave enough times. I think he may even be somewhat irritated by me. He almost didn’t address me as lord.:: _

Megatron offered the tidbit without thought. It was natural for him to share insights and responses with his mate and for a moment, he had forgotten that Optimus closed that door very firmly. Immediately, he felt too open and exposed. He scrambled for something technical to offer to the Prime instead.

_ ::With your materials, he estimates construction to take two weeks.:: _

 

_ ::Very well. Did the Ark have energon on it? We’re running low, even with a time frame of two weeks.:: _

He resolutely ignored the bits of emotion that threatened to creep in when least expected. It had no place between them. In a way, being separated like this was almost a relief. He didn’t want to be embroiled in the messy tangle of emotions like last time. 

 

_ ::A little. Enough for slim rations. They’re already being divided and stored.:: _

Again, the notion of stasis crossed his mind. They’d have to take a vote on it, on who was strictly necessary. Shockwave, of course. Soundwave, for navigation. The sparklings had to be awake, they weren’t developed enough for extended stasis. Wheeljack, to aid Shockwave. Ratchet, to watch over those in stasis. Optimus, to keep the peace and guide them all to work together. Perhaps a few warriors, in case their journey was less than peaceful.

_ ::I still maintain we must select a few to be put into stasis. It’s simply impossible to keep everyone at full functionality.:: _

 

_ ::I can think of three possible candidates. I will ask for volunteers.::  _ It was a necessary sacrifice. They would be brought out eventually, no matter how unpleasant it felt.

_ ::What about yours? Will any of them consent to stasis?::  _ Please, let it be Starscream. Optimus didn’t relish the idea of staying in an enclosed space with him. The camp was bad enough.

 

Of course Starscream wouldn’t volunteer. He didn’t trust his own faction, let alone the Autobots. The seeker’s paranoia only continued to mount in the camp. He was disruptive, and he slunk around.

But Megatron would not take his free choice away.

_ ::Sherma and Momus. And myself. That should conserve enough fuel for the functional crew and the sparklings.:: _

 

_ ::You will be in stasis?::  _ Surprise threaded into his tone. Optimus hadn’t thought Megatron would consent to the idea of being put under, so vulnerable, at such a vital point in their plans. Perhaps, in a way, Optimus still stubbornly clung to the idea of the two of them always being at the forefront of things, no matter how rocky their personal relationship grew.

_ ::I don’t think that would a good idea.:: _

 

_ ::My frame requires more fuel by nature. My presence is the reason you have opposition in your ranks. You can trust me if I’m not conscious, can’t you?:: _

He tried hard not to sound bitter, truly. It was all factual, and Optimus should understand his logic that had him arrive at this conclusion. Isn’t it what Prime wanted? Him, incapable of even moving or thinking, since his every instinct was betrayal?

 

_ ::That isn’t…::  _ It was hard to explain the complex series of emotions that ran over him in that moment. The grudge from their fight still simmered, unresolved and prickly. It was made of anger that Optimus didn’t think he could ever let go, but there was something else besides it. Attachment. Unease. Megatron not being there, beside him or against him, was a foreign concept to Optimus.

_ ::I told you before. Two is better than one.:: _

 

_ ::Two frames of our size, guzzling energon that we need to get back home? Don’t be foolish Prime.:: _

It’s not like Megatron was suggesting they leave him behind. He’d be in stasis until they reached Cybertron and a source of energon. He’d trust himself to Optimus’ care, no matter how low the opinion the Prime had of him. Some part of Megatron rebelled at the notion that he deserved such disregard. Another part accepted the guilt and heaped it together as a hefty burden on his spark.

_ ::The sparklings can’t go into stasis. They’re too weak for it. Take care of them or I will haunt you. That is a promise and a threat.:: _

 

_ ::We could put more people in stasis. Stop off on an outpost and refuel.::  _ It was always this push and pull, wasn’t it? Optimus couldn’t bear to leave Megatron, but he couldn’t bear to have him too close. It was worthy of contempt.

“Megatron, if you would?”  _ ::Let me talk to you. In private.:: _

 

_ ::You’re one stubborn mech.:: _

Megatron transformed, leaving the sparklings with Soundwave as he approached Optimus, slowly. Last time he’d wanted a word, the Prime was ready to kill him over a minute oversight of shared information. This time, it was about something Megatron had the freedom to choose.

He was tiring quickly of this overbearing game of keep-away.

“Come with me then.”

This time, it would be on his terms. And none of their offspring would mistakenly witness a potentially murderous argument. Megatron transformed to tank mode, only to drive a good ten minutes away from camp, Prime behind him.

“...what have I done wrong this time?”

 

“It’s more about what  _ I _ have done wrong.”

Optimus watched Megatron stop some distance away from him, everything about him wary. He vented, shifting his weight on the crunching snow underfoot, tasting the rehearsed words in his mouth. He’d been saving them for some time, turning them over when he had nothing else to occupy his time save too much thinking.

“I was rash. I acted without thinking.” He’d never trusted Megatron, no matter how much he’d fooled himself. He’d wanted to, he’d hoped to, but Optimus’ worries over his personal weakness had proven true. Oh, he was still sore about being left in the dark, but his reaction had been poor. It had driven a rift between the factions neither of them could afford. Omission or not, Optimus shouldn’t have let his personal fury at Megatron cloud his judgment.

“I’m sorry.”

 

Some part of Megatron wanted to shrug off the apology and give Optimus the cold answer he deserved. That his apology meant nothing, since he could not be trusted to give Megatron an opportunity for change. There was no redemption in the Prime’s optics. Except for humankind, which had lied to him, murdered his comrades, betrayed him more than once and oh yes, slaughtered his sparklings.

But the needy, emotional part of Megatron yearned for his bondmate back, for his lover back at his side. Or at least, to be on speaking terms.

“I forgive you.”

And unlike his Prime, he could say that and mean it.

The warframe exvented, blowing hot air into their cold surroundings.

“I’d forgive you almost anything.”

 

“You shouldn’t.” He closed the distance between them, until he could touch Megatron. It was warier this time around. Optimus eyed where he tried to cut through his neck, and wondered if he really ought to be forgiving him so easily. Was it even real, or was it just another symptom of Megatron’s ever-present longing?

“Could we try again?” he asked, looking up into Megatron’ optics. “I think that I need to start letting go of the past. Now’s a good time as any.”

Megatron showed that he was willing to move forward. Optimus needed to reciprocate. “I ask for another chance. And Megatron, really, don’t say yes automatically because you feel guilty.”

 

“That’s always going to be a part of it.” Megatron didn’t trust this change. It was too much like his wishes, Optimus opening up to reconnect the two of them. He wanted more than vague words.

“If you’re serious about it this time, prove it to me.”

He stepped closer, allowing the Prime’s touch to linger as he unlocked his chestplating. They were bonded, so a merge was nothing new, but they hadn’t done so in so long, the effects of it were a mere memory to each of them.

“I’m not full of endless chances, Optimus. I can only take your rejection so many times. Join with me. Let me help you. You’ve been alone, because of me, for far too long.”

 

He stared at the way Megatron’s chestplates move. He remembered merging with Megatron. It had been… intimate. One of their little things to indulge, day in, day out. How long had it been since he’d opened his plates for something different than a medical check-up?

Slowly, he copied him. His chest opened, and the light of his spark shone through, reflected on the ice.

“It won’t be the same,” he murmured, cautioning, before stepping forward to let their chests meet.

As expected, it wasn’t.

Merging as Prime and Lord Protector had been like falling into bliss in slow motion, twisting into their private paradise together, locked in ecstasy only they knew. It had been the pinnacle of their mutual devotion.

The merging, this time around, was less blissful. It was uneven, bumpy almost, and the titanic weights of their individual baggages threatened to drag them down. The burden of Optimus’ senseless train of revolving door emotions was tossed into the fray as well, and he leaned, steaming curling out his vents with soft hisses. This was not pleasurable in any sense. It was raw and honest, agonizingly intense.

 

It was painful, but it was also beautiful. At least to Megatron, who had learned to combine both of those sensations together a long time ago. Optimus felt like the jagged, edged pieces of him that had been missing, ever since he woke out of the Fallen’s command. Nothing fit like it used to, every good memory was steeped in spite, in fear and insecurity, in potential betrayal. Megatron flooded into Optimus, every bit as passionate and headstrong as he’d always been. He took the doubts and cast his own against them. His fear of losing Optimus forever, mingled in with doubts in his worth now as a leader. But amidst the chaos of their combined emotions, he pinned his hope. He didn’t let Optimus gnaw at it. Attached to this hope, a vision of home, of family and unity. A goal that Megatron had committed himself to, had even left the vengeful anger towards humanity behind for. 

And underneath every current of conflict, there was the subtle forgiveness and love that had yet to die. Even when Optimus was ready to kill him, even when Optimus rebuffed him again and again. Megatron wouldn’t let go of the euphoria they’d felt for each other, a long time ago. He let his longing bleed into their merge, his other half, ripped from him by the Fallen, losing all faith and love for him as Megatron watched. Watched and knew that Optimus had learned to hate him. Watched and knew Optimus was being corrupted too, through him, and he had failed to protect what he cherished most.

 

The end of the merge was both too soon and too late. Optimus pushed away with a short, sharp gasp, holding a servo up to his chest. The merge hadn’t been total pain, but it was close. It was just another representation of all that they’d lost in this war.

“...well,” he asked, after he regained his composure. Megatron got to see him –  undiluted, all the rough patchwork edges of the warrior’s face the scholar had sewn onto himself like armor. “That’s it. Me.”

He wouldn’t be surprised if Megatron deemed it not enough. The one he knew was gone. The Prime that stood before him was a poor substitute for the one who’d been his other half.

“Not all of it was your fault. You only started it. The rest was…” Optimus merely losing sight of his way.

 

“Both of us. To blame, if anyone still was in doubt.” Megatron exvented deeply. Nothing had surprised him about Optimus, except the lack of his desire to rekindle the two of them together. To the Prime, it had been a painful merge. An experience he did not wish to repeat. And that in itself was a warning for Megatron. Optimus needed him much more direly than he ever knew. The Prime was lost without him. 

“And yet I still don’t know if it is me you want or if you simply tire of our animosity.”

 

“Can’t it be both?” Was it both? He couldn’t say for certain.

He took hold of Megatron’s servo. “I tire of fighting you. You saw that I missed you.” The shameful pangs of loneliness had been his greatest enemy early on. Now, he fought a different mental enemy. “I know you want us to… go back to the way things were, but it’s hard.” 

 

“I saw that you need me. Or anyone else to trust and let in. Optimus,” Megatron turned his servo, brushed his fingers over the Prime’s stubby digits. What had this mech endured in his absence and now, his presence?

“You can’t go on like this. You can’t be this alone. I may not have right to your spark, but you must understand it’s not all your burden to bear. Let me help you. Please. I still love you as thoroughly as before. Let me give that to you, even if you can’t reciprocate. Use it to foster...something close to trust for me. Cybertron needs you to, but more importantly...you need to unload.” 

 

Bitterly, Optimus reflected on how _ easily _ Megatron managed to get those words out. Once upon a time,  _ he _ had been the peacemaker between the two of them, mollifying his Lord Protector and flattening down the spikes in his mood. Now, the tables were turned.

Primus. His younger self would have been so  _ disappointed _ .

“You presume a lot,” Optimus muttered, but there was no bite in it. “Then what is stasis? Your act of great trust?”

He was ashamed by his rashness, yes, but mistrust was like a bad penny that turned up everywhere he turned. Optimus needed to know every reason, every thought, every bit of rationality that went on behind Megatron’s optics before he could trust the mech that stood before him. He thought he managed to understand Megatron, but the Fallen’s demise remade him into someone almost painfully familiar and foreign, like a silhouette seen beyond clouded glass.

“...Never mind. You don’t need to answer that.” He shouldn’t have asked. 

He still didn’t want Megatron in stasis.

 

“It is exactly that. You do know me, after all.” Megatron assessed Optimus as one Prime with a plethora of problems that should never reach Cybertron. But ‘fixing’ them beforehand was entirely impossible if no one had access to Optimus. Stasis solved two of Megatron’s tasks in one; A great demonstration of trust and respect for Optimus’ leadership and the full responsibility of their offspring, focused on Optimus instead of being buffered by Megatron’s presence. It couldn’t be that the sparklings continued to be afraid of their sire. It was downright unacceptable. 

And Optimus always did need to be dragged through learning experiences kicking and screaming, for his own good. And in this case, for their family.

“Unless you’d leave the return to Cybertron under my sole command?”

 

“I don’t see why you  _ must _ put one of us in stasis,” Optimus muttered, only mildly exasperated. Megatron’s insistence on this was strange. Interesting. Declaration of trust was good and all, but it struck Optimus as curious that he wasn’t seeing the ample other opportunities laid out before them.

“With more in stasis, we could have privacy on the ship.”

Connect the dots, mech.

 

“As much as I’d like to be tempted, I did tell you that I would not be your outlet. I stand by it. And please, don’t tell me you don’t see what’s wrong with our current...respective teams. The rift is ever-present. Your presence and mine fuels it to new heights. Do you want a staged coup during our journey? If I don’t go into stasis, Starscream won’t either. It would look like I don’t trust myself into Autobot servos.”

Megatron had to chuckle though. Optimus really was lonely if he couldn’t consider the political consequences before his own, personal needs.

 

Megatron always did have the perplexing ability to start talking sense at the exact moment Optimus didn’t want to hear it. He was right, of course. Going into stasis was a good idea all around. It would help Optimus relax his chokehold on him, put less of a strain on their fuel reserves, and cut out the more menacing half of the leaders onboard. If Megatron was in stasis, it would be in Shockwave and Soundwave’s best interests to keep working with Optimus for the sake of their own leader.

_ Still _ .

There was still more time to contemplate the fundamental unfairness of the world, in which either mecha always ended up in a situation where one wasn’t willing to compromise for the sake of personal relations. It had started off with Optimus, and now he was getting a taste of his own medicine.

“It would be safer for you to be awake during the trip,” he tried instead. At least if the temptation of a more personal time wouldn’t convince him, maybe logic could. “Starscream already questions you. Putting yourself in stasis would only further his belief that you’ve lost your mind and are no longer fit for command of the Decepticons. And it would be better for you to be awake should we encounter any other Decepticons during our trip back.”

 

“No Decepticon would question Soundwave and Shockwave.” Megatron vented again. Optimus was being obstinate and he wouldn’t see reason, which meant he either fundamentally disagreed or he just absolutely wouldn’t say what was on his mind. And judging by their topic, Megatron could guess which was the case here.

“You’re being selfish. Just admit to it and I’ll obey your wishes.”

_ Just a little. Relent a little.  _

 

He  _ shouldn’t _ be. Optimus wanted to dance around the wording, but guilt twisted tightly in his tanks at the thought of trying to dress up his words into something different than what they really were.

He was being selfish, and now, he wasn’t sure if Megatron was encouraging that, or condemning it.

“...you’re right. Go into stasis. It is for the best.”

There really was no other argument he could bring.

 

Disappointment coloured Megatron’s field, but he simply nodded at his bondmate. Still he wasn’t important enough for Optimus to get over himself and admit to his desires. Very well. He’d rather be in stasis than faced with this treatment, this constant push and pull, in every moment of Optimus’ presence.

“We’re agreed then. The sparklings need to be fueled twice a day.”

Megatron locked up his chestplates and slowly prowled for the way back. If Optimus could stand his own, awful behavior, he was a stronger mech than his protector, who ached after their merge, who longed to make him whole and who would never again feel adequate in the face of Optimus’ mighty sense of responsibility above all.

 


	18. All Because Of You

He let Megatron go back to camp on his own. Optimus stood in the middle of the trees for a while, wondering to himself as he stared at the pale gusts of steam that rose up whenever he vented. He knew he misstepped the moment Megatron acquiesced without an argument or smugness and time spent on reflecting why revealed the answer.

It was maddening.

If Optimus would be honest with himself, then he would’ve jumped at the chance if Megatron had offered the idea on his own. But then he had to put it all out honestly, and the selfishness of his real motives stopped Optimus as good as any physical barrier. It was a decision he made hastily, entreated by his knee-jerk reaction, and now it was a decision he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stand by.

Even when he wasn’t here, Megatron had a knack for making Optimus question himself, his values, and everything he did. Time without his bonded made Optimus jaded – ready to be alone at a moment’s notice, ready to throw himself into the lonely cage of responsibility – but… yes. He’d made a mistake. Megatron offered a way for him to admit to it and have what he wanted, but once again, his hang-ups made their presence well-known.

Faced with that, Optimus finally trudged back to camp with a thoughtful frown on his face that was soon erased when he saw Megatron.

He needed time to think.

 

So he did. The process of shipbuilding took a while. Shockwave was hard at work stripping down his materials into its most useful parts as he cobbled together a ship that could stand interstellar travel. Optimus and Megatron didn’t speak as much anymore, only exchanging brief pleasantries and orders when needed before parting. The sparklings continued to scatter at Optimus’ presence.

In the end, of the eleven Autobots with Optimus, seven consented to stasis. He watched as they loaded up onto the ship one by one, as grim and stern as mecha striding towards a funeral. Then, as he stood over them, they began to cycle their systems down into stasis mode. Sideswipe was the last to go, and Ratchet checked them all before nodding. The Autobots were in stasis. Now, it was the Decepticons’ turn.

And time for Optimus to make a small confession.

 

_ ::If your… offer still stands, then… yes. I want to be selfish.:: _

Silently, he waited among the slabs. Seven Autobots already slept within. Sherma and Momus were making their way deeper inside, squeezing each other servos briefly before settling down on their respective slabs.

_ ::Stay with me. Please.:: _

 

_ ::...Are you sure?::  _

Megatron stood next to his slab, slowly looking towards the Prime. This was his final chance, and Optimus  didn’t know how close he was coming to losing Megatron’s hope. This though, this should help them to survive.

Even if it was poor timing, since Starscream had just gingerly slid onto his own slab and kept his optics suspiciously bright.

He gestured to Megatron, a protest on his vocalizer but strangled into silence by Shockwave’s pointed look.

Megatron strode towards the Prime, who overlooked his Autobots, each of which had trusted themselves into his care, completely vulnerable. Being awake, together, on this long flight home, it would afford them opportunities.

Hope became stronger, began to bubble beneath the surface of Megatron’s plating. Maybe more. Maybe a reconnection. Maybe intimate hours spent alone among the stars....that was the poet in him. Still, they did have decidedly more chances if he was not in stasis.

_ ::I was certain you would not bow.:: _

 

_ ::I wasn’t all that sure myself.:: _

Starscream went into stasis under Shockwave and Optimus’ pointed stares, even though he still was rebellious. Barricade crossed his arms as he laid down, frowning but obedient. Then, he too was sleeping. Ratchet moved among the slabs, checking everyone’s vitals and making sure their stasis was stable. Optimus watched him work, carefully not looking at Megatron lest he lose his composure.

_ ::I can only ask for your understanding from here on out. I see many mistakes still in the future for me. But if you would...:: _

All good. Ratchet nodded to him as he gave the all clear. They would still come down and check every so often, but the procedure had gone as hoped. Fuel intake was down ninety percent.

_ ::I would still like to tread my path with you.:: _

Optimus followed Ratchet onto the ship’s bridge, his field tugging on Megatron’s as he went. Ratchet looked like he wanted to ask why Megatron wasn’t going into stasis as well, but Optimus glanced at him.

After all, Ratchet had been his friend even before he was Prime. He  _ knew _ .

No questions were asked as Optimus strode onto the bridge. Shockwave and Soundwave were already there, calibrating the ship for take-off. With over half their people in stasis, there was no need for a dramatic speech.

“We’re going home,” was all Optimus said on the matter, feeling the floor rumble under his pedes as the ship rose from the treeline of the Siberian snowlands.

 

“Let’s hope it holds together.” Megatron had no doubt that it would. Decepticon engineering never disappointed. The sparklings had poured onto the bridge as well, and now clung to a window, chirping excitedly. This would be the first time they consciously left a planet. And even if they’d never been on Cybertron, they could pick up enough from Megatron’s field to gather this was a big deal.

Warmth straggled along the edges of his side of the bond. They were really headed home. A desolate place, wrought with death and destruction, but anything was more hospitable than Earth.

“And the humans don’t take a shot at fifty of their own nuclear weapons.”

 

The ground grew further and further away as they watched. Despite himself, Optimus felt the corner of his mouth twitch at Megatron’s pessimism. “I don’t think they will. In fact, I am sure they are relieved we are gone as just as much as we are relieved  _ to _ be gone. Our war damaged their home – many who were innocents overall.”

He could see his presence on the bridge wasn’t needed. Shockwave had it all well in hand, while Soundwave operated the consoles on the other side. Both of them were too busy to even speak much. 

“We’re lucky the part of the Ark you brought had several subsections… I think some of the storage can be converted into something else, if necessary. We didn’t have a lot to bring with us anyway.”

He touched the wall again, thoughtful.

“To think that Sentinel had been so close all this time… I warned him against this. If only he’d stayed.” 

 

Megatron remained very silent at the mention of that name. Sentinel...The remains of the other Ark passengers. He’d left them on the moon. Buried, and marked for a spacebridge as soon as they built one, but definitely deceased. No more Cybertronian tech in human hands. The drones, he’d silently set to self-destruct once the ship was out of orbit. Whether or not that would cause human casualties was of no concern to him.

“Sentinel was never adept at listening. Particularly to me.”

Sentinel had done more than simply fail to pay attention. He had belittled Megatron throughout his life.

 

“He was a stubborn mech at the best of times. But he meant well. We should try and preserve the Ark once we return to Cybertron. It’s a piece of history now.”

The ship’s cobbled-together origins could be plainly seen in the patchwork way the metal came together at random intervals, going from the smooth craftsmanship of the Ark to welded together panes of human-made steel. Optimus touched one such joinery, running his thumb over the weld scars, before withdrawing.

This part of the ship was quiet. Engine noise and distant rattles were the only interruptions to be had throughout. The sparklings were still excitedly exploring what reaches of the ship they could reach, and were too busy having fun to pay any mind to their carrier – or sire.

His digits gingerly found the inside of Megatron’s wrist. Bringing him closer, Optimus regarded the tapestry of metals, speculative.

“Home,” he said, “I hardly remember Cybertron now. And now we’re going back.” 

 

“As I recall, there’s not much to be seen. It will take a lot of effort to rebuild what I destroyed.” 

Megatron made no pretenses about who was to blame for the loss of their homeworld. But for now, he could focus on the soft touch against his wrist, and wonder about Optimus’ thoughts. 

“Did you bid your humans farewell? You’ve been quiet about leaving Earth behind, despite calling it a potential new home, once.”

It could never have replaced Cybertron, even if Megatron had not gathered an absolute and thorough hatred for humanity.

Carefully, slowly, he closed his fingers over Optimus’ servo.

 

“I have said my good-byes to Captain Lennox – I expect he is back home with his family in the United States. Sam Witwicky and his family are better off believing we simply disappeared. Besides them, we’ve had little in the way of close human friends. Allies, perhaps, but not friends.”

Between negotiating with human governments, training for upcoming clashes with the Decepticons, and generally being busy with the duties of leadership in a foreign land, Optimus hadn’t the time to spend taking people into his confidences. Or, perhaps, it was just another symptom of his self-imposed solitude founded on excuses that only held up when not closely examined. 

It didn’t matter now; the ship was rising away from Earth and the blue sky was beginning to darken into the obsidian of space.


	19. We Are

Optimus vented, feeling as if a profound weight had been lifted from his shoulders. In leaving Earth, they left behind the memories of the last, desperate death struggles of the war and the corrupted recollections of the Fallen’s final attempts to destroy everything that he touched. Someday, they might come back, but that was in the far future. Any human that knew them personally would be gone by then. Earth was the burial place for the corpse of a millennia-old war and its instigator.

“I think that I may be a little glad that we are departing.”

Twisting around, he pulled on Megatron, leading him back to one of the storage spaces Optimus had mentioned. “I am gladder that it’s a departure done in peace. With you. Just a year ago, I would have thought that something like this would be an idle fantasy.”

 

“You would not have been wrong to think it impossible. I was resigned to my fate to serve despite my will. My mind buried under his command.”

Megatron followed almost eagerly to the moment of privacy. Now that they were no longer on Earth, he didn't have to shepherd his offspring everywhere. Humans would never again be able to threaten his unplanned family. His sparklings would have a restored Cybertron to call their own, that he swore.

“Be honest. You just didn't want to be solely responsible for our little ones, didn't you?”

It was a joke and his tone was extra light, so Optimus wouldn't most misunderstand like he so often did.

 

“It might have been a factor, yes,” he chuckled. They went into the storage and Optimus shut the door with a kick. “Barely three months into being their sire, and they’re already deathly terrified of me.  Imagine what a  _ disaster _ this trip could’ve been without you.”

He craned his neck to reach Megatron’s lips first. “Mostly it was you. You don’t think I was completely  _ immune _ to your suggestions planetside, do you?”

A whole trip and all the privacy that promised. They had a lot of time to catch up on. Maybe with that, the tensions between them could stop being so poisonous.

 

Was Optimus serious this time? Or would he again remember all that lay between them and what it meant? For his own sake, he hoped the Prime was finally at peace with the fact he still cared deeply for Megatron. He certainly showed it, now that there were no witnesses but his conscience.

“I thought they left you cold like so many other of my words. I intended every single one.”

 

“They annoyed me. But not for the reason you think.”

This wasn’t the rushed affair of the NEST base. Here, they had time. The accommodations were hardly luxurious, but the simple privilege of privacy was priceless. Duty no longer divided them.

“Listening to you was incredibly frustrating, you know. It’s not as if I could  _ act _ on anything you suggested. Having it offered and not being able to take you up on it was… trying.”

He kissed Megatron, letting go enough to allow his engine to rev audibly. Megatron fully repaired felt different under his servos. His plating was smooth again, lacking the gritty texture of rust, and everything about him just seemed… _ whole.  _ Not merely physically, but mentally as well.

THis time, he didn’t bother to repress the desire. It flowed through their bond freely and for once, Optimus’ usual mental brakes didn’t stop it from reaching its intended target. Megatron was handsome –  always had been – and now Optimus could let him know how beloved – and wanted – he was. His gaze lingered over his broad chest, the clean-cut lines of each angle on him, and most precious of all, the sanity that shone back at him from clear optics.

“However, now that I finally  _ do _ have you to myself in peace… I’d like to follow up on your suggestions. And more.”   

 

“Noted,” Megatron let the taste of his dear Prime linger on his glossa, and admired him for a moment. Despite the constant tidal shifting of Optimus’ stance on rekindling their relationship, he was willing to endure. And hopefully, now, reap some benefits to loving a mech so stubborn and fractured in himself. 

“And I would encourage you to follow every inkling of desire. Whilst we have nothing else to take up our time but each other.”

It was more than he’d hoped for. Suggesting himself to go into stasis had been both an offer of trust and a minor ultimatum for Optimus to realize they could steal time alone with each other, just like this, so easily.

Hungry, he leaned back in for another kiss, this time worrying the Prime’s lip components and letting his engine rev loudly, vibrating both of their chassis.

 

Kissing was good and all, but that had been the upper limit of what Optimus allowed, save that one time in his cell. And despite all his own cautions on the matter, he was impatient too. He cut the kiss short, helm tilting back. They had time for tender affections later.

“I think I could form a better apology than the one I gave you previously,” he said, slowly shifting down. He moved Megatron’s servos from his sides to his shoulders instead. His optics remained on his all the while. “My Lord Protector deserves more than just one kind of kiss.”

 

Said Lord Protector tilted his helm in question, watching Optimus with mild confusion and underlying eagerness. Whatever his Prime would offer, he’d be sure to accept. Very happily. Optimus could be very creative when it came to affections, but he was just as likely to give Megatron a more sparkfelt speech than the previous apology. He severely hoped for the former.

“And what is it that I deserve?”

 

“For starters, the affection I have denied you.” His mouth brushed over grey plating as he knelt. This room was sparse – there were only a few sets of padding stacked on top of each other in the corner, and a few container tanks. All spares, most likely, to provide for a long dead crew. Now, they might see some use.

Reaching around, his digits slipped under plating with the ease of someone who knew this frame well. Optimus leaned close, shoulder sloping towards Megatron. One servo went to his ankle, half raising it in silent encouragement to hook it over his shoulder. Once upon a time, he would’ve buckled under such weight. Now, it almost felt light compared to the burden he’d shouldered for the duration of the war.

“I think that a demonstration would prove my point far more aptly than any explanation.” He kissed the very edge of Megatron’s panel – just like he used to, when he wanted to signal Megatron to open up for him. 

 

Megatron hooked his sizeable leg over his bondmate, curious and with a good inkling about what Optimus had in store for him. Oh. Oh, this was promising. He knew that touch, that intention, he felt his field and spark shudder, gloriously alive within the thrall of desire pouring over the bond. Yes, Megatron agreed, he did deserve this. Greed was always part of his nature, even before it was tainted. And now, it was laser-focused on Optimus.

His panel was an obedient servant to the Prime, sliding back on both array covers, offering Optimus the choice between spike and valve. Either would do, the Lord Protector watching with a starved sort of attention. Every flicker, every murmur, every familiar motion, Megatron soaked up and revelled in. Optimus was slowly thawing out of his icy hellscape, and joining Megatron in the reality that they were back together, back at each other’s sides.

“I think so too,” he agreed as a servo brushed over Optimus’ helm. This, they’d done before, but it was millennia ago. Megatron could just barely remember.

 

“Then we are in agreement.” He would pay attention to his spike later. From this angle, this close, Optimus could see what he’d fumbled with in the dark that day in his cell. It was the same as he’d remembered – unadorned and grey with a few biolights to stud out little patterns of light across the mesh. When he bent his helm closer, he realized it felt the same too. It was soft and yielding, contradictory to Megatron’s nature, giving way to the inquiring probe of his glossa.

It’d been a long time since Optimus had done this with… well, anyone. Megatron. Megatron was the only partner he could remember, really.

He moved slowly, acquainting himself with the feel of it all. The lining of his valve gave way under the measured movements of his lips, flexible and very, very warm. He made a pleased sound as the first drops of lubricant encountered his searching glossa. After all, both of them were rather rusty at this.

Emboldened, he pushed on. Not content to simply lick and feel, his mouth slanted up towards his anterior node. It was just as soft as the rest of his valve.

 

Somewhere in the region above Optimus, Megatron was reliving their youth, and remembering just when the last time they’d been this close had happened. He was, very honestly, surprised Optimus could still be so tender at spark. The mech had grown distant and lacking in personal touch throughout the war, and here he was, sensually dipping his face into Megatron’s valve.

The former warlord heaved a sigh, both in content and anticipation. He could tell the Prime exactly how long it had been since anyone experienced him like this, but he didn’t need to, because Optimus had been a participant then too.

He’d never modded his valve, or his spike. Optimus had been so content with it, and Megatron in turn with him. The two of them never tired of interfacing, of delighting in each other, their lust and their bond. It was a slew of beautiful memories, and as they rushed across bond and data pathways, Megatron’s fans clicked on loudly.

“I forgot what that feels like.”

 

He didn’t want to distract Megatron from this, so no reply came forth. Instead, his confessions took place in the motions of his mouth, pressing up against his node and valve with a barely restrained eagerness. He’d missed this too – the taste, the sensation, having Megatron above him and knowing that neither of them would have it any other way. Being able to touch as freely as he pleased was an intoxicant all on its own. Such freedoms had been lost to him the day Megatron had been taken over.

When he leaned in, paint from Megatron’s leg, flaked down and left thick silver streaks across Optimus’ shoulder. The grind of metal was as good as the soft sigh from him, saying things no poorly-worded speech could explain. Words had failed the two of them a long time ago but touch… touch was their sacred intimacy. This kind of touch never had the chance to be corrupted by the Fallen.

Growing more earnest with each passing moment, his attention became aggressive – demanding, even. He pushed his legs further apart, thrust his glossa in harder and deeper, and went from caressing to sucking, seeking to drive more similar sounds from his mate.

His optics remained online the entire time. The unwitting observer could see this as subservience on Optimus’ part, but the opposite was the truth. Each slip of his glossa controlled Megatron – when he pushed, Megatron sagged against the wall. When he sucked, grey servos clawed up. When he teased his valve open again with his glossa, it elicited a full-body shudder as his struts extended and contracted.

Optimus didn’t revel in the power. Instead, he glowed with the simple knowledge that he pleased Megatron. That, in turn, pleased him.

 

Optimus may not be taking advantage of his easy power over his mate, but Megatron had always appreciated the juxtaposed positions it put them in. He was supposed to represent the military and the strength of their species and here he was, a complete and willing victim of his clever Prime's oral talents.

Megatron didn't keep quiet. He never had been a silent lover, and now he saw no reason to keep his pleasure to himself, without a base of suspicious soldiers around them.

His moans sounded so strange to his own audials. His claws found hold on his mate and Megatron offered up Optimus’ name instead of pleas for more and thorough pleasures. Again and again, he had to mourn the intimacy they once had, when they couldn't keep their servos from each other for longer than a few hours.

 

With a final lick, Optimus moved up. He found the base of his spike first. The smooth metal segments caught against his glossa as he licked a broad stripe up the thing. Meanwhile, his servo continued off what his mouth had left unfinished.

Black digits pushed up into his valve, slow even while Megatron cried his name above him. No matter how pitched he grew, however, his claws never left even a single scratch on Optimus.

He thrust his digits in roughly at the same time he swallowed down the tip of his spike. It wasn’t easy – he was out of practice enough that trying to go further made his intake constrict at the unfamiliar intrusion. A little patience let him relax enough to fall in a rhythm of thrusting and sucking.

Personally, Optimus found little pleasure in giving oral. But seeing Megatron come undone over it was its own reward. He didn’t need anything else.

 

Optimus hadn't lost his touch. Megatron was helpless in his grasp, and wasn't that just surreal after spending an eternity fighting one another? He didn't have time of processor power to contemplate the irony, because his sensors were being blown out with charge, the current moving in a deep, tight spiral that had everything to do with with Optimus going this far to please him and the simple fact that it had been needed for such a long time by them both. No scratches, just holding on. The moans were building bigger pauses between the reverent utterances of Optimus’ designation. A dual crescendo, between his senses and the Prime's pace, there was no room to think, only to indulge.

And so he did, well before a respectable amount of time, spilling himself into the Prime's intake with little more warning than a choked moan and tightening in his calipers.

 

There was no warning for Megatron’s overload. One moment he was arching off the wall with a moan that choked off into silence, and then suddenly he was overloading into his mouth with a choked little sound. Optimus tried to keep up but coughed and from there it was a lost cause. Transfluid dribbled over his lips as he coughed sharply twice, trying to maintain dignity so he didn’t spray his mouthful all over Megatron. More fluid stained his chin as he swallowed most of it. A little still escaped, messily dripping down his jaw.

Valve-wise, he was less surprising. Optimus took the opportunity to curl his digits and coax a little more fire out of this overload. It had been unexpectedly quick. He’d expected to be going at it for several more minutes than that. 

Not that Optimus was complaining. He didn’t have long practice backing him now.


	20. Home

Not that Optimus was complaining. He didn’t have long practice backing him now.

Still, it’d been good.  _ Very _ good. Optimus’ array had perked up in attention a long time ago, and was just biding its time. He hadn’t overloaded at all.

“Good?”

 

“Splendid.” Megatron hummed, not in the least bit embarrassed about his quick reaction, his lack of stamina. Optimus had seen him at his best, his worst, his most needy and this was definitely somewhere high on the scale of pathetic sides of him that only his mate had seen. Megatron didn’t mind. Optimus knew worse about him through the sparkbond, not to mention the merging.

The former warlord reached down to smooth his palms over the Prime's derma, wiping through his own transfluid. A grin snaked across his fanged mouth.

“You look good like that.”

Optimus looked  _ decadent. _

 

He didn’t feel like he looked good. Some part of him had recalled all the magic and wonder of interfacing, and forgotten that it could also be a messy, sticky,  _ wet _ experience at the same time. Transfluid made his lips slippery and lubricant oozed into the joints of his digits, making them feel both congealed and slick at once.

But Optimus only needed to look up into his expression of wonder and confirm that regardless of what the Prime was feeling,  _ he _ certainly saw something greater.

He moved to stand up, gently pulling the leg resting on his shoulder lower, so that it now curled over the swell of his hip. When he pressed their chassis together, he could feel the heat coming off of Megatron and his frame responding to it. Little lightning bolts of charge flickered over his transformation seams as Optimus touched his helm to Megatron’s. Between them, his panels slid back.

He didn’t need to ask. Megatron wasn’t the type to get oversensitized after one minor overload and if anything, he’d be exasperated by Optimus’ need to gain his permission over and over again when he’d already begged for everything he could have.

It was interesting how all these tidbits of Megatron came flowing back as they explored each other’s frames. He knew him, yes, but the long-buried personal facts that every couple knows about each other resurfaced to the forefront, brought up by renewed passion after centuries of dormancy. The longer Optimus looked upon Megatron, the more he recalled. The way he liked to interface. His little rituals during the afterglow. Even the way he grasped for his plating was achingly familiar.

Such was the state of his lonely spark that even these scraps of intimate familiarity was enough to make emotion surge through him. This time, however, Optimus didn’t repress it.

“You look better,” he said, voice pitched low as if he were worried someone might catch his ice wall breaking a fraction.

As soon as the unguarded remark slipped through his barriers, Optimus knew that he’d lost – not that this had been a fight to begin with. Perhaps it was only a fight with himself. With which parts he did not know – just that Megatron had only needed to smile at him  _ that _ way to smash his guard to pieces.

He sighed. It wasn’t a sound of sorrow for having lost the internal battle. Merely a noise expressing exasperation and resignation. He’d likely been fated for defeat the moment he’d stopped Megatron to ask for another chance.

With a  _ tink _ , Optimus rested his helm on his shoulder instead. His face burrowed into the curve of his neck, hiding his expression from him.

The bond fluttered with the beginning curls of his self-deprecating amusement. And then he began to laugh. Chuckle. It shook his shoulders gently, though no sound escaped his mouth. Little puffs of air caressed the side of Megatron’s neck.

_ Just ignore me _ he wanted to say. But he can’t vocalize it nor comm it – trying to speak to Megatron might make his mouth form different words than the ones he wanted to say. So he swallowed it all down and it bubbled out as silent, self-mocking laughter.

 

Optimus was, under all that armor and stoicism, a weird mech. And Megatron had known that for a long time. He’d appreciated it too, when the former archeologist began to boldly court him like no one else had ever dared to do. It was astounding to find a sense of humor and a lovely laugh underneath all the jaded layers that remained of his bondmate.

Megatron didn’t find it off-putting. Much the opposite. This was much more Optimus than Optimus had been for the past years. Megatron tugged him as close as possible, one leg around his waist, arms around broad shoulders, claws gentle on blue paint. He didn’t need to ask why Optimus was laughing, not whilst he could enjoy the sound of something so rare and yet, perfectly natural. Or at least, it should be. 

The bond flooded with warmth and rueful appreciation. Megatron had been the one to take away any reasons Optimus had to smile and be happy (what a strange concept to apply to this warrior Prime), and now he was the mech to bring that back. Or at least, he assumed so. He knew his lover well enough to understand Optimus wasn’t actually laughing at him and his pathetic performance. No, the Prime wasn’t malicious like that.

“I’ve missed you,” it burst out of him before he could contemplate tempering his rampant emotions, which were only fueled to burn brighter with the sweet sound of Optimus slowly returning to be a person rather than a simple leader-machine.

“I’ve missed you and I love you. Also, I wouldn’t be opposed to you letting me have a chance to loosen you up a little more.”

 

At least Megatron seemed oblivious to the emotions that threatened to spill over in Optimus. It was a small mercy. His laughter subsided long after Megatron spoke and in the soft contemplation left over, he thought over what he said.

_ I love you _ . It was a miracle how easily Megatron said it. And how easy Optimus had found it to say it back. Now, those words intimidated him.

“I know,” was the most he was willing to say. Then he kissed Megatron, not giving him the chance to say anything equally devastating.

The intimacy left him wanting more. Rather than pursue what could be said, he thrust up into Megatron, savoring the easy fit. The two of them came together like two pieces of a puzzle, aligned and molded to click together into a whole.

 

It was good enough, for now. Megatron would persist with his emotional pursuit to reclaim what was lost. Optimus was thawing, slowly, and the more ice fell away, the more genuinely confident Megatron could feel in what he’d said. He did love Optimus. The memory of his bondmate, their time together, the way they understood one another. That was all in the past, but it had not gone away. He still felt that same connection, albeit weakened by time and resentment and bitterness, but Megatron was stubborn. He wouldn’t give up on it. He was as much Optimus’ match as the Prime was his.

The sudden intrusion wasn’t unwelcome, and it certainly felt familiar for the two of them. Megatron had always been larger and confident in his position to truly relish having Optimus spike him. It was no act of submission, but of acceptance and equality between them. Although some part of Megatron still, to this day, had a weakness for Optimus enforcing his will upon him. His Prime, commanding him with pride and confidence. Warframes had to have room for dreams, right?

His claws tightened, now dipping into blue and red paint for deep grooves that would mark Optimus nicely for the remainder of their long, long journey. Vents flaring, voice shifting into a pleased moan here and there, Megatron was a model of a bondmate, adjusting to their familiar rhythm, calipers spiraling open and shut to give his Prime a little friction.

Did Optimus still struggle with the innate desire to kill him?

It was an odd moment to think of it, but even along the open bond, Megatron could feel the frayed edges.

 

It was a question neither of them wanted honestly answered.

Optimus, oblivious to the dark thought intruding their peace, continued to move against Megatron. In an attempt to outrun his own thoughts, he grew rougher. He wanted to lose himself in the beat between their frames and for now it seemed to be working. There was a flare of pain when claws dug in, but it was a good pain.

Dimly, he could remember the first time he’d spiked Megatron. It’d been a mess, in all honesty – Optimus had been frazzled by a rare fit of nerves, Megatron still a little too proud to settle… in the end, it became a fight that dissolved into a wrestling match. All in good humor. 

Now, a fight between them would probably shatter what fragments of piece they managed to salvage.

The fickle pride that had kept Megatron from allowing Optimus a simple spiking from back then had evaporated before the infinite need for each other, too long denied. He couldn’t even recall what it felt like, why he was humiliated by being the recipient of desire. 

And now wasn’t the time to contemplate it either, because Megatron had waited long enough to be reunited with his beloved and feel him moving against him, within him. The heat between their frames was matched by the heat spinning off of Megatron’s spark.

Fighting Optimus off, like the first time, was just about the furthest thing from Megatron’s mind.

 

Optimus never overloaded with ceremony. His was a quiet, tense affair, more notably marked by the stuttering of his steady venting and the harsh, sudden snap of sensation through the sparkbond. He held Megatron like he was his sole lifeline in an unfamiliar ocean. It was the earnestness, he would think later, when he was away from Megatron and able to think clearly, that broke him.

“I love you,” he choked out, already tasting the regret on the tail end of those words. He wanted to shout them and stuff them away all at once. But it was too late. Anything short of a mindwipe wouldn’t erase those words. He’d said it too loudly to be ignored.

Groaning, he pushed his face into Megatron’s neck again. Overload was always welcome, but this was… this was… he clutched Megatron tighter.

Optimus wasn’t prone to cursing, even during the worst moments. He felt the urge strongly now.

“...is it too late to ask you to forget that?”

 

Not in this lifetime would Megatron forsake that confession. After having his spark splintered by Optimus’ insistence that their romance was dead, after all the back and forth, he wouldn’t let the Prime go so easily. Oh no. This was his mech.

“I will never forget it. Please don’t ask me to. I can feel your regret already,” and it was tainting the wonderful charge that had been building up so steadily, so easily in his frame and spark. Optimus and he fit like they were made for each other. 

Megatron gently held Optimus’ helm by the neck, pressing his to the finials he so loved to watch as they twitched whenever the Prime was speaking without paying close attention to keeping them still.

“But I’ll let you get away with not repeating it until you look out over a restored Iacon from the Citadel balcony again, my dear Prime.”

 

_ However long that would be _ , he reflected, only slightly bitter. It really was too late to take it back… so he might as well step forward and accept it. There was still a slew of problems that had to deal with. One hasty confession in the storage of a ship held together with tape and prayers wasn’t going to change things dramatically –  they would argue, butt helms, fall apart and come together again, as had been their pattern for so long. It would be painful and beautiful and terribly intimate.

He feared. He loved. He was, in the timeless split second between leaning in and leaning away, angry.

And then it dissipated like fog under the morning sun, and Optimus sighed as he held Megatron just as tightly.

“It would be my honor to say it again then.”


End file.
